


Kingdom Collisions

by perseusjacksonjasongrace



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M, PJO, PLEASE read notes for trigger warnings, Present Tense, Torture, ciara writes things and pretends she knows what she's doing, i don't really know how it happened either, i dont know how to use ao3 so im sorry if im a flop, it do be a slowburn, jercy royalty, royal jercy, royal jercy au, the archive warnings do not apply to every chapter so there will be trigger warnings in the notes, there do be a lot of kidnapping and torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28389534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perseusjacksonjasongrace/pseuds/perseusjacksonjasongrace
Summary: Prince Perseus Jackson is forced into an arranged marriage, in order to keep the people of his kingdom prosperous and safe. And he will do it, as his princely duty, no matter how much he hates his betrothed to be. What he, or anyone else, doesn't expect is for things to take a dark and twisted turn.
Relationships: Valgrace - Relationship, jercy, mcjackson
Comments: 20
Kudos: 34





	1. The Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Hello angels, I'm very new to Ao3 so tips would be gratefully appreciated.  
> I started this fic to add more description to my writing and therefore (hopefully) improve it. There are no prewritten chapters so updates are sporadic and I'm genuinely as surprised as you are about what happens next.  
> I hope you enjoy! And these babies hold such a special place in my heart!

_we are not so different_

_love said_

_and hate had to agree_

_because who else burned with passion for what could be_

_-badpoetry_

Percy Jackson doesn’t want to do this. Doesn’t want to get up, walk down the aisle and pledge his allegiance to a stranger. He wants to run away. To a place long forgotten, where the waves are as blue as the sky and the grass is as green as his eyes. A place he remembers in his dreams. But there’s a knock on his door and he knows it’s time. Knows he has to face the music and the day ahead. If he achieves nothing else in his bitter life at least he knows he has saved his people. Even if it means utter ruination for his ocean heart.

“My Prince,” A muffled voice calls from behind the large, cherry wood doors, “We are going to be late.”

“I’m coming,” He glances at the mirror one more time, letting his lungs fill up with air.

“I’m coming.”

And then he’s sliding into a sleek black car, leather seats scrunching under his weight. He stares out the window, hating how the blackout coverings make the world dull, leeches it of colour. The ride, although smooth as glass, churns his stomach, uses it as a bowling ball. He wants to get out, wants to tell the driver to keep going until the sounds of his city are broken memory and lost hopes. He wants to run.

So he turns to his right hand-man, his friend through the crumbling minutes and exhilarating hours. “Tell me a story.”

He will let the people in this story run for him. Will live through their thumping hearts and gazing eyes.

“About what Prince?” Grover Underwood smiled.

“About the day the lady of the ocean learned who fed her.”

“As you wish,”

“There once was a lady who’s skin resembled ice and eyes reflected war and she lived in the middle of a great blue expanse. She lived and breathed and ate and pissed as you and I would. She talked, if she knew how, and searched for nothing. She did not know the concept of alone because she had never experienced the joy of together. If you asked her how she feels, living in that ever moving world she would have looked at you with her eyes of blue and said nothing at all. She doesn’t know what it means to feel. One day- if you can count it as such when time is a concept not yet introduced- her depth-less gaze is drawn to something. Something, when there is nothing, is a lot. And something when there has never been anything is fearful indeed. But that something came towards her and she knew for the first time what it was like to be "another.” When you are alone, when you are the only, there is no such thing as another. Then the something was upon her and it looked as she did, if she had known what she looked like. It came toward and stared into her murky soul.”

This was Percy’s favourite part. The part that validated his decision.

“It said to her,” Grover continued, brown eyes dancing as if he knew the beings personally, as if he had been there when this had happened. “It said _You are mine as I am yours._ And this lady of the ocean snarled, if she knew how, and said _I am no-one’s. I am mine because I am the only._ The being moved, made the expanse shake and ripple. _You exist because of me. And I exist because of you._ This confused the lady, confused her and angered her. _How can that be?_ and the being replied, _I make you grow and in turn you feed me._ _What are you? I am the river._ ”

We cannot live without each other. We depend on one another to live. We must give in order to take or we will cease to be. This is why he was willing to do this, willing to give up his freedom. Percy sighs, thanks his friend, tightens a fist around his beating heart. When the car eases onto the cobbled pathway of the venue, he drags the smell of worn leather and bottled wind into his lungs. It is time.

“Are you ready Prince?”

“When this is done Grover,” He looks to his friend, clasps their hands, “When I leave will your promise me that you will save the things that keep us alive. Promise me that.”

“What are these things your highness?”

“When the people get that sparkle in their eyes, when they cannot fight the rising smile, when they join hands and hold each other close, you must look closely at what they’re doing, what they’re seeing. It will be those things that allow us to survive.”

Grover frowns, looks at him deep in the eyes. He can see the doubt, the reluctance and confusion etched into that familiar face. But then his friend nods once. And it is enough for Percy. So he gets out the car and walks down the brown brick path. Walks into the hall, ignoring the eyes boring into him, the ears tuned into his every footfall. He walks right up to the altar and waits. And when his betrothed stalks down the aisle, eyes flashing with anger and defiance he has to hold it together. Has to stop himself from mimicking those feelings.

Blonde hair is neatly styled, conservative, royal. He is not surprised. He wanders how much trouble he could get into for mussing it. He decides it isn’t worth it. And then they’re up there together staring at each other like they’d rather be in hell, at the bottom of a sewer, dangling from a fraying rope bridge. The officiant steps to the altar, smiles at the attendees, smiles at them. They don’t smile back. It requires some level of joy to smile, some level of anything except burning fury and malicious compliance.

“Welcome all, we are gathered here today…”

Percy drowns him out, let’s the buzzing in his ears become louder and louder, a tear rolls down his cheek. He doesn’t bother to wipe it away. Someone from the middle coos, thinks he’s so full of happiness his body can’t contain it.

His betrothed scoffs softly, “I don’t care about your tears Percy Jackson. Save them for someone who’s willing to drink them in a drought.” He hears the hiss like a boiling in his blood. Hears it and smiles through the salt. Someone shoves a ring in his hand.

“Do you Perseus Jackson take—”

“Yes, yes I do.” He can’t wait for it to be over, cant wait for this to become the past.

The officiant looks at him quizzically but continues, “And do you—”

“Yes.” His betrothed mutters, shoves the ring on his finger.

“Congratulations, you many now kiss the–”

They pull each other together, take one second to breathe into shared space. “Happy fucking forever Jason Grace.” Their lips sear together, and for the first time in his life Percy Jackson tastes fire.


	2. The Honeymoon

_Leave me alone._

_[we have known loneliness forever]_

_Why did I ever agree to this?_

_[so we do not quite know what it is like]_

_I never asked you to say yes!_

_[to want]_

_Fuck you._

_[one another]_

_-loneliness is a two-sided conversation//badpoetry_

Percy doesn’t even look at his husband. Doesn’t acknowledge his perfect hair, or blazing eyes, or how close they’re sitting. He just stares directly out the car window, arms folded across his chest. The rolling hills and wild lavender dance past his vision as the car bounces along the gravel road. They are almost to their destination, to solid ground and quiet, peace. Despite the circumstances he is excited to be back at the cabin his family has owned for so many years. He relishes in the fact that he can escape somewhere that is untainted by the rest of his life. Throngs of people, and public demand, and never ending scrutiny. 

He is nothing short of pissed that he has to share his safe place with someone he despises so sweetly it is honey on his tongue to talk to them. But his mother had insisted if they were to act like a married couple they would have to go on a honeymoon and he had only agreed if he could choose the place. She wanted to send them to some private beach in Spain where they could pretend to be alone, oblivious to the paparazzi that were sure to follow, and the people who wanted to meet not one but two crown princes. It was his final stance that if he were being forced to spend time with his husband, it would at least be where he could enjoy it.

“Prince,” A crackling voice says through the speakers.

Percy clicks a button on the arm rest, “Yes Mr James?”

“The security team has secured the area, would you like us to drop the bags off before you head inside or after?”

“Whenever suits you Mr James, I’m going for a walk.”

Jason who had since then, fallen asleep, jolts awake as they go over a particularly bumpy area.

“And your husband Prince?”

“Ask him yourself, I’m sure he has much to say on the matter.” Percy huffs, turning away.

“Prince Grace,”

Jason glares at Percy unimpressed with his dismissal and his rudeness towards the driver.

“Yes James sir?”

“Would you like your bags dropped off before or after you enter the area?”

“Before please, I feel it will help me settle in much easier if everything is already there.”

Percy wants to scoff, who talks like that? This pretentious, stuck-up, goodie two-shoes is who. He wants to stick his tongue out, settle their rivalry like five year olds battling to see who can scowl for longer. Mostly, desperately he just wants to get out of this damn car. His leg bounces in time with the bumps, and his hands fidget in his lap. For all his princely training nobody ever managed to get him to sit perfectly still. His mother had finally given up and started carrying drawing pads and pencils wherever she went.

“Can you stop moving!” Jason growls.

“If it bothers you so much get out and walk.” He spits back.

An eye roll is the reply but by then the car finally rumbles to a stop and a security detail is opening their doors.

“Princes,”

“Thank you Madison, Arlo.” He manages to grit before he stomps off down the path and disappears into the woods.

“Where are you going?” He hears his husband yell. He doesn’t bother to reply, someone will tell the Prince.

He kicks at the dark soil and pulls breath after breath into his lungs. He needs to calm down. Just then his ears catch the soft bubbling of a stream and he heads in the direction of the noise. The woods are quiet and cool. A soft breeze flutters between velvety leaves and needled pines, stirring the undergrowth. He wants to become one with the trees, become a branch that sways in greeting and grows friends, and feels the wind wrapping around it every evening. He just wants to stop being human for a little while. 

And then the stream is underneath him, soaking his fancy shoes and fine thread socks. He laughs, tugs them off and sits down in the middle of the cold, flowing water. He can feel it run into him like ice in his veins. He dips a finger in, then another, his whole hand and shudders at the smooth caress. It has been so long since he just got to be. Here in this little stream, pants soaking, hands turning blue he has never felt so faraway, out of his body. The world narrows to his fingertips, to the bead of water running down his ankle and joining its family once more. His brain is far and long forgotten, simply taking up space in his skull. He decides right then and there that if he ever comes back to this world he’ll come back as a rock in the stream. To live in this beautiful, ever-moving world, where the cold is a kiss and you can never meet the same drop of water twice seems a good life indeed.

Just then he hears a rustle behind him. In an instant he’s on his feet, pulling a dagger from his suit jacket, a white-knuckled grip on the hilt.

“Whoever you are come out right now. I am not in the mood.”

“Relax,” A deep smooth voice says, “It’s just me.”

“Oh,” He pulls his lips up in half disappointment, half relief it wasn’t danger. “What do you want?”

“Mr James wants to know if you want five or ten of the guards here for the remainder of the time here.”

“I want zero.” He frowned, “I just want to be left in peace for the next few days.”

“Well it’s not an option so choose.” Practical, always so practical.

“Leave five here, there’s three other cabins about half a mile out on either side of ours that should be enough space. Everyone else can go home.”

“Of course, I’ll leave you to it then.” Jason nods, stands there awkwardly for a moment longer and then disappears into the greenery once more.

Percy doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know whether he should scream or cry or laugh.

He hadn’t let himself think too hard about the events of the last few weeks. He had shoved every feeling but contempt and general dislike deep deep down into his cage and threw the key into the deepest parts of his ocean of thoughts. He wasn’t sure he had the strength to unpack everything that had happened. When his mother had came to him all those weeks ago a heartbroken look in her eyes he knew whatever had happened would be nothing short of a disaster. Within the week he was promised to Crown Prince Jason Grace of Caelum and had been shoved into endless, meetings in which wedding arrangements and economic agreements had to be made.

He didn’t even meet the Prince till the night before they were to be wed but by then Percy had despised the whole ordeal so intensely he hadn’t any happiness or hope left in him to be kind to the Prince. And even if he did gave some it would have vanished completely upon their introduction. Jason looked at him with such calculating authority he had reminded Percy of an old tutor who thought children should be seen and not heard, and learn whatever was given to them without question. Jason had been stiff, and unyielding, and looked just as unhappy or even unhappier to be meeting him. At dinner Jason only spoke when spoken too, he didn’t fidget even once, and worst of all he somehow still managed to charm his mother in about five seconds. One dimpled smile, and a cute story about his first time riding a horse and Queen Sally Jackson had accepted him as one of their own. Percy on the other hand was ignored the entire dinner, and on the walk in the gardens, at the insistence of his advisor, they hardly said two words to each other. Whether it was because Jason was lost in his own world or letting his displeasure for the whole ordeal simmer and burn into their company as Percy was he would never know. Either way the walk ended with a gruff, formal goodbye before they headed to their rooms.

Percy shuts out the politics of the arrangement and how his life has turned into this unrecognizable hurricane of chaos. He cups some of water in his hands and drops it over his curls. Letting it drip down his temples and catch on his collarbones. The coolness soothes him, as water has always done. Finally when his blood is no longer boiling with hidden anger he steps out of the stream, picking up his discarded shoes and socks and sinks into the earth with each step.

The cabin has a soft orange glow in the windows, and the many cars that escorted them have disappeared. He throws his belongings by the door, shucks his pants off and steps inside. The interior is just as he remembers it. Where the castle was dripping with opulence and royalty, the cabin was simple and stripped to the bare essentials. He had always loved the place. Even when he was little and his mom would whisk him away for a secret weekend. She would pack hoards of cookies and ice-cream and light the fire immediately. They would sit on the soft, fleece rug, her with a book and him with his sketchpad, sipping cocoa and spooning ice cream straight from the tub. Then he didn’t have to be the prince one day inheriting the crown and she didn’t have to be the Queen dealing with every problem under the sun. They hadn’t been back in a good few years and he misses everything about the space. He is silently grateful that Jason has lit the fire. Something familiar to hold onto.

“You’re back.” The Golden Prince says.

“Astute observation.” He rolls his eyes but the blonde doesn’t look up from whatever he’s doing.

Percy walks into the space, shrugging his suit jacket off and unbuttoning his wrinkled white shirt. He hears a sharp inhale and glances up to see a red cheeked Jason staring at him.

“Why aren’t you wearing any pants?”

“Oh,” He laughs softly, “Yea they were wet so I took them off before I came in.”

He sputters and blushes, glancing down and then peaking back up again.

“You alright there Prince?”

Jason clears his throat, and Percy watches that golden Adam’s apple bob. His skin prickles with heat and he knows its time to go.

“I’m going to shower. I’ll give you a tour afterwards if you want.”

“That would be great.”

With a nod in which they both avoid eye contact and general pleasantry he disappears into one of the three rooms of the cabin.

His shower is scorching, water pummeling against tired muscles. His mother always says a good shower and steaming cup of tea can fix more problems than a board of professionals. So far she hasn’t been wrong.

“Hey,” He walks back into the lounge sometime later, looking down as he ties the string on his pants, “You ready?”

The house is dead quiet, save for the crackle of the fire and the soft wind that whispers in the grooves of the floor.

“Jason?” He frowns, moving to stand in front of him.

The Prince is fast asleep, head lolling forward, book still clasped in his hands. Percy takes in his husband for the first time. Unobstructed by either of their waking emotions, or the general hustling that had shrouded their lives. Jason, he grudgingly admits, is beautiful. His hair looks soft and golden, and when it catches the light of the fire he’s sure it’s made from sunshine itself. And his skin is such a startling contrast to Percy’s rich brown colour. The Prince’s body, now folded into an awkward bent angle as he lay across the velvet-cushioned chair, is lithe and graceful. Corded with muscle but somehow still smooth in a way only an uptight Prince with a personal trainer may ever achieve. At least, he thinks sordidly, if I’m forced to marry someone he is as darling as Jason.

The blonde stirs softly, hand twitching, before he settles back into his position. As awkward and unhappy the two are with each other Percy can’t leave him here. He’s sure the Prince will bend into a chair himself if he slept like that all night long. So he gently taps his husband’s shoulder, waking him almost immediately. Jason has never been a particularly heavy sleeper, and it is worse when he finds himself in a place he doesn’t know. He blinks up at the world, blue eyes bright. They reminds Percy of the cat-eye aquamarine, the gemstone sat at the base of every crown ever made for his kingdom. He wonders what it says that the colour of his husband’s eyes are also the colour he most associates with home. Just as quickly he expels those thoughts, content to bask in his clear dispassion and irritation for as long as this should last.

Jason scrubs a hand over his face, “Sorry you wanted to take me on a tour?”

“No, no there’s time for that tomorrow. Why don’t you head up to bed.”

“Oh, okay. Goodnight then,”

“Goodnight Prince,” He says stiffly.

“Sleep easy.”

A nod in return and they both retire to their rooms, content to put the last week far behind them. Bury it under dreams, and hopes, and the promise of a tomorrow where nothing has tarnished it yet.

Percy left his window open, watched the tree outside it sway gently. Maybe tomorrow he would climb it and become acquainted with the birds in the nest.

He falls asleep, finally, to the chirp of crickets and the soft rustle of whispering leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts, beautiful human!


	3. The Fight

Percy Jackson awakes to the smell of coffee. He snuggles into his pillows groaning away the sluggish in his veins. He can hear the wind rustling the trees outside his window and the distinct lack of sun filtering into his room. Opening one eye he looks outside to see the world awash in grey. He groans again, ready to pull the duvet over his head and get at least two more hours of sleep. But the universe has other plans because suddenly there’s a deafening crash from the kitchen, and an accompanying string of curse words.

“JASON!” He jumps out of bed, falling over himself to get to the source. He slams into the wall as he races down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Wait!” Jason screams.

Percy skids to a halt, mere inches away from the glass scattered everywhere.

“What happened?”

“I knocked down the coffee pot.” The blonde sighs, stepping cautiously around the kitchen to get the broom.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles, “I’ll replace it for you as soon as I can.”

Jason, Percy observes, looks exhausted. Looks like the weight of a thousand worlds is resting in his palms.

“Hey,” He shakes his head softly, “No its okay. It’s not that big a deal.” He takes the broom from shaking hands and motions for the prince to sit on the counter.

Quickly he cleans up the glass, trying to get all the little pieces, stuck between the flooring.

“I think we still have an old espresso machine somewhere. How about I get that on and you grab a jersey, you’re shaking.”

Blue eyes shoot him a grateful glance, and he shuffles off.

Percy has the overwhelming urge to hug the golden prince, instead he puts the cleaning supplies away and starts opening cupboard after cupboard. Finally at the back of the top most one he spots the old espresso maker him and his mom had bought from the annual market many years back. He wasn’t sure it worked even then but rather this than nothing. After all most princes he knows are made from fifty percent etiquette, twenty percent reluctance to do it, and thirty percent coffee.

With a half tilted smirk, at his sleepy ramblings he fills the machine with grounds and pulls two mugs down. The smell of rich dark roast envelops the room and he takes a deep breath in. There has always been something earthly and intense about coffee that can never be quite replicated in other beverages. Just then the prince walks into the room, adorned in grey sweats, and a blue hoodie that perfectly matched the enchanting shade of blue that was his eyes.

“Feeling a little better?”

“Didn’t get enough sleep last night. Takes me a while to adjust to a new place.” He says by way of explanation for his earlier clumsiness.

Percy nods, understanding the feeling of being taken out of your own comfort. Of being forced away. “Here’s your coffee. I’m going for a walk. Why don’t you stay here and rest up a bit?”

The blonde looks like he’s going to protest but he rubs his eyes, yawning quietly, and mumbles in agreement.

He quickly gets dressed, uncaring what he looks like here where there is no one and nothing for miles. Where reporters and paparazzi are not breathing down his neck, or his mother isn’t fixing is already fixed collar, or heaven forbid their advisor isn’t chastising him about something or the other. He takes his steaming mug of coffee and steps into the foggy winter morning, taking lungfuls of air in. He can never get tired of this. Of being isolated. Alone. Free. Oh gods he hasn’t felt free in so many moons. Even this little taste is like magic sparking in his veins. He wants to chase the high forever. But he reels these feelings in, shoves them under the mountain of princely duties his life is built on. Instead he takes one step, and then another, across the porch, down the stairs, out out out. He goes the opposite direction to the woods he’d escaped to yesterday, heading instead towards the lake that glistens and ripples. When the sky is blazing blue, and the sun is a glorious warmth against his brown skin he likes to strip and dive head first into the lake. His mother often had to drag him out by the legs, kicking and screaming, because he wanted one more hour, minute, second. Bribery and corruption were a big part of their trips, bribery in the form of cookies, and corruption in the horror stories she used to tell about what happened in the lake when the sun went down. He recalls one of those stories now, as he takes the concrete steps down to the water.

_There was once a little boy, just like you, with bright eyes, and curly hair._

He shakes his head fondly, remembering how she always ruffled his curls when she said that.

_Who was the boy mom? Did I know him? Did you?_

_Hush little one, and let me continue._ So he zipped his mouth closed and looked up at her earnestly.

_The little boy was on holiday with his family. He stayed in the room just opposite yours, in this very house. And everyday him and his family would go swimming in the lake. He used to love splashing in the shallow end but his sister, who was older than him, preferred to swim deeper in, and the little boy wanted to be just like her. So after much fussing, his parents said he could as long as he was holding onto his sister at all times._

Her voice got lower then, almost whispering through the rest. It had always sent shivers down his little spine, now it just makes him laugh.

_The little boy was very good at first, he always held onto his sister and they had a great time. One day, a few weeks into their holiday, he wanted to go swimming but his sister didn’t. The little boy, deciding he was big enough to go by himself, got dressed in his bathing suit and went to the lake all by himself._

_Little Percy gasped, small hands covering his mouth._

_Yes he was very naughty indeed, his mom frowned._

_What happened mom, did he drown?_

_No little one. He started swimming and he got all the way to the middle of the lake. But by then it was getting very dark and he had swam very far out. He was tired, and cold, and he wasn’t having any fun at all. His moms didn’t know where he was and his sister was sleeping, which meant he was all alone in this big lake. He tried to yell but he was too far. And then a ginormous monster fish tickled his toes. Because you see the little boy had swam into the monsters home and the monster didn’t like visitors._

_Why not mommy? Wasn’t the monster lonely?_

Queen Sally Jackson had smiled at that, continually amazed at the empathy children had.

_The monster had many friends, little one, but they didn’t like human friends because they couldn’t stay with them. The monster told the little boy this and said he could only swim in that area if he promised to stay forever. But the little boy was scared, he didn’t want to leave his family, so he swam back as fast as he could. And when he got back to his moms and his sister he hugged them tight. And he never went to the lake without them again. So you see, little one, you have to listen to the people you love. They will keep you safe._

Percy smiles as the memory fades. He can’t help but miss those days. They are the only memories he has that haven’t been tainted by royalty and the life he’d been born into. It wasn’t that he hated being a prince, hell he knew he was born on the lucky side of the stars for it. He just wants to be something other than prince. His whole life is defined by his status. Nobody save for his mother and a few members of their court see him as anything else. He wants, for once in his life, to be seen as _more_. He wants to be the boy who paints his own skateboards, the boy who learnt how to surf from watching the professionals at the national competitions they had to make an appearance at, the boy who plays piano till his fingers cramp, the boy who lies awake at night and dreams about the life beyond the stars. Instead he is the crown that glitters by the light of their gold chandeliers, and the stiff lapels of his suit, and the charming smile on the front page of RoyaltyWeekly™, and the future King of Mare.

His coffee is cold by the time he makes it to the lake. He doesn’t mind; it was almost done anyway. He thinks about taking his shoes off and stepping into the water but he refrains when he remembers he still has to take his husband— oh gods, breathe, breathe, breathe— on a tour. He sits on the cold sand for a little while, and watches the water dance and the reeds sway. The wind is picking up but it’s still comfortable enough that he relishes in the caress of it against his cheeks. The world is so quiet just then. So full of nothing. Even his own heartbeat is too loud. The birds have stilled their singing, maybe cosying up to each other to brave out the oncoming storm slowly blackening the sky. The leaves of the forest are too far away to be heard. And the lake, although rippling, does not slosh against the banks. He wonders briefly if this is what it feels like to be nature. To be the air, and the wind, and the sky, and the trees. He likes the silence. Likes how it let’s him decide what he wants to be. Who he wants to be. He distinctly avoids all his recent predicaments and let’s his thoughts wander like fairies in a may field. They are without substance and pull a smile onto his lips that stays there till finally, hours later, he makes his way back to the cabin. He kicks off his sneakers at the door and steps into a toasty warm house. The fire is raging in the hearth, and the delicious, mouth watering smell of baked bread is wafting in from the kitchen. He gets drunk on the smell, letting his nose lead him to the source. There still adorned in a hoodie and sweats, with decidedly more flour on him, is Prince Jason.

“You bake?”

“My father insisted we learn how to make traditional meals. He said no future ruler of this kingdom would be disgraceful enough to not know his own country’s cuisine.”

Percy just hums in reply, putting his coffee cup in the sink, and moving to sit on the other side of the counter.

“Well when you’re done I guess I can show you around.”

Jason looks up from the bread board, where he is slicing through the still hot loaf, and says “Oh please don’t do me any favours.”

“It’s not my favour, it’s my mother’s.”

“Well tell her I said thanks but I don’t need your bratty ass to show me things. I’ll figure it out.”

“What the fuck happened to you since I left?”

“What happened to me? You’re the one that’s acting like you’d rather be in hell than here with me!” He explodes, blue eyes blazing with unleashed anger.

“Maybe I would.” Percy growls, “At least I know what to expect in hell.”

The Prince reels back, looking like he’s been slapped, “What does that mean?”

“You know what don’t worry about it. I’m going to my room. Try not to disturb me unless you’re dying.”

“Fuck you.” Jason seethes.

“Not even in marriage.” Percy spits back, and before any more spiteful words are dropped he turns on his heel and races from the kitchen.

The last sound in the house is the echoes of a slammed door before all goes deadly quiet. He screams into his pillow and collapses onto his bed. If only he had been the little boy who met the monster in the lake. He would have stayed. The people he loves will keep him safe, but what happens when there aren’t any left?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts, beautiful human!


	4. The News

Jason Grace is tired. So so tired. Exhaustion is a weight pressing into his bones. He doesn’t know why he snapped at Percy. His patience is usually an infinite string wrapping around his throat and tying a bow against his collarbone. But every part of him feels out of place. He stares at the mirror mounted to the wooden wall, stares at it until his eyes cross. But he doesn’t recognize the person staring back.

They have the same blonde hair and blue eyes. The same tall, half-gangly half-lean frame. And the wonky glasses. But they don’t have the spark that glitters in his eye. Or the dancing fingers that constantly needed to be entertained. No, those fingers lay limp at his side.

He sighs and moves to collapse onto his bed. At the very least the silk sheets are blissfully cool under his skin. When they had first got to the cabin he had been surprised at the sheer lack of opulence. In all his years of being a Prince and visiting every castle and vacation-home known to man he thought he had a pretty good idea about what royalty was like. But Crown Prince Percy Jackson and Queen Sally Jackson continue to surprise him. When they had insisted on a small wedding, consisting of no more than what was needed to officiate a royal ceremony, or when Queen Sally had pulled him aside after their dinner the night before and hugged him tight enough to stop his air flow.

“I am sorry Jason,” She looked at him, her sea blue eyes glistening with unshed tears, “That you have to give up so many of your own choices. I hope one day, you will find peace and happiness despite the circumstances.”

He had thanked her but her words, even now, puzzles him to the point of headaches.

Why did she care what happened to him? And why did she think he didn’t have any choices?

His kingdom is as much a part of this agreement as theirs. All these questions buzz incessantly in his mind enough that he feels the low throb of a migraine at the base of his skull. Immediately, he pushes himself off the bed and gets into an ice cold shower. On top of everything, he doesn’t need to be sick.

The shower beats against his back as he gets lost in his thoughts, remembering the last time time he had been under the relentless spray, in his own castle.

_I can’t believe you have to get married to some pompous no good jackass._

_Aw don’t say that. We don’t even know him._

_Yea but he’s taking you away from me so I hate him_

_Don’t worry my ardor, I will find my way back to you._

A calloused hand, the colour of brass, snaked under his arm, resting against his chest, where his heart beats steadily.

_What if you end up falling for each other?_

He turned around, looking deep into those coffee eyes.

_I don’t know how I could possibly fall for anyone when you have already caught me._

_I hate you for making me cry._

_Jason had leaned in, tilted up that angular face, brushed away the curls._

_I love you my ardor._

_I love you mi cielo._

The memory fades as he pulls himself back to the present, letting the sound of sleepy birds and rushing water ground him.

Shutting off the shower he dries himself off quickly, glad to find the oncoming migraine gone. Not bothering with anything but a pair of boxers he makes his way into the lounge where the fire is slowly dying. He shoves a few more logs in and settles down on the fleece rug in front of it. Percy, he observes, is still holed up in his room.

He knows he should apologize, should offer some peace treaty after snapping like that, but he can’t bring himself to care. He just wants to be at home, surrounded by his people, by his person.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about them, about that smile, or the way their ears turn red when they notice Jason staring, or how they can fix literally anything you put in front of them.

He had asked why they never followed their father, take of the family business, why they chose to become a royal guard instead, but his ardor had shrugged and said there were more exciting things in the world than melting metal.

Jason always dragged them closer and tangled his fingers in that messy hair.

_Well I guess it was the right choice. Because it brought you to me._

And then words were no longer necessary.

He shakes himself out of it, out of the life he’s left so far behind. There is nothing there for him now. Nothing but a coronation and ruling for the rest of his days. The thought makes him queasy. Makes him want to fly into the sky and live amongst the clouds. _Life_ , he thinks, w _ould be much simpler if they could escape to the sky._ Instead, he picks up the book he is reading and escapes into another world.

Some time later he dozes off, head lolling to the side. His dreams take him to hands of fire and cheeky smiles. He dreams of comfort.

“Jason,” Someone calls him.

He mumbles for them to go away and tries to tuck himself back into bed, only to fall over and slam into a hard something?

“You can’t sleep like this,” The voice is saying, “You’re going to ache tomorrow.”

“Don’t care.” He groans, curling into a ball.

“Come on,”

And then he’s being lifted clean of his feet and hoisted over a shoulder.

“What are you doing?” He manages to mutter.

“You can’t sleep like that. First of all the floor is not comfortable and second I don’t know how much you move in your sleep and I don’t want a Jason barbecue.”

“I don’t want to sleep in my room.” His brain is foggy and he trips over every second word.

“Why?”

“Iss cold.”

“I’ll get you another blanket.” Percy’s voice is nothing but a raspy breath.

“Have two,” He mumbles, “Need to sleep with my—”

He’s cut off by a yawn.

“Your what?”

“My what what?”

He can hear his husband— oh yes his husband, what a silly thought— sigh and he pictures those striking green eyes rolling.

“My room has sun for most of the day, you can sleep there for now. We can discuss your room when you’re less sleep deprived. Sound good?”

“Soundddss dreamy,” He sighs, fighting his fast closing eyes.

Just before the world disappears he’s placed gently on cotton sheets. He can hear the birds starting to sing and he can feel the sun bathing his usually pale skin.

“This isss ni—” He yawns, “nice.”

Jason Grace is fast asleep.

***

The Prince opens his eyes slowly, blinking back into the present. He doesn’t recognize his surroundings. There’s a small pile of clothes on a maple-wood rocking chair in the corner, and emerald curtains, fastened by glimmering ties, open to reveal huge arched windows. He looks down to see his legs entangled in black sheets and the faintest threads of cerulean blue weaving between the strands.

Percy’s room, then.

But why is he in here. He doesn’t remember drinking last night and that’s the only way he could have possibly slept with his husband. Gods what a sad thought indeed. He decides to just ask the Black-haired Prince, not caring to delve into his memories to try piece together what happened. He thinks briefly about donning more clothes than his current boxers but his room is far and the house is warm, and mostly he just can’t muster up the energy. 

He finds the prince at the kitchen counter typing furiously on his laptop. He takes a single moment to observe the scene. Percy’s mussed curls and thin wire framed glasses pushed up his nose. A coffee cup, still steaming sits to his right, and a board of cheese and the bread he had baked is layed out on the other side.

“I can’t be that pretty to look at, I haven’t even brushed my hair yet.” Percy says without looking up.

“Sorry,” He’s glad the Prince doesn’t take his eyes away from the screen because Jason’s cheeks are bright red.

He moves to grab some coffee and sits down on the opposite side of the table.

“So uh—” He rubs the back of his neck, “Why was I sleeping in your room.”

“Oh,” Percy starts, finally looking up. Those green eyes widen as big as saucers as he takes the golden prince in.

“What?” Jason panics, “We didn’t do anything did we?”

His husband snorts, “Trust me. If we fuck, you’ll remember.”

He is ready with a snarky reply but the prince continues, “No you were sleeping in the lounge but the fire was still on and it just seemed like a recipe for disaster. I tried to take you to your room but you said it was cold so I put you in mine because it gets sun for most of the day.”

Jason is taken aback. That’s sweet… surprisingly sweet.

“Thank you."Percy shrugs and goes back to typing on his laptop. He doesn’t know what he should do. They seem to have entered into some sort of civil conversation and he doesn’t want to ruin the shred of normality.

So he downs the rest of his coffee, chucks the mug in the sink and disappears into his bedroom. Minutes later he comes out more clothed, jeans hugging his legs and a blue sweater that feels like getting a hug from a panda. If getting a hug from such an animal was warm and soft and cuddly. He wouldn’t know.

"I’m going for a walk.”

His husband just nods, motioning to the cabin keys distractedly. Jason, fortunately, picks up on the meaning and grabs them, tucking the set into his coat.

This is the first time since they had driven here three days ago that he’s stepping outside. Dusk is just starting to settle and the world is awash in oranges and pinks and the faintest strokes of purple. He wants to live in these colours, wants to paint them across his eyes so he always sees the world in their shades. A little sparrow flies down and lands on a branch hanging just over his head. It chirps as he walks past, flurrying it’s tail as if to say hello. And then it spreads its wings and soars into the open plains, into those bleeding colours.

He remembers suddenly, a story his nanny had told him.

_Why Miss Rosie, does the sky change colours?_

_Because Little Prince, when artists die they say goodbye by giving us a final painting._

_Does that mean when the clouds change shapes sculptors are saying goodbye?_

Miss Rosiland Krynn had smiled at those big blue eyes and nodded.

_What happens when the artist can’t paint or draw or sculpt what about then?_

_Well when you hear the sounds of wind chimes tinkling in the garden, or the sounds of streams bubbling in the woods, or the whistle of birds as they wake up then you’re hearing all the singers who can no longer sing on earth._

_And what about the actors?_

_When you hear someone crying, or lots of people laughing, or when you can feel someone watching over you those are the actors. They’re their to bring joy into the world through all the people still here._

_And the dancers Miss Rosie?_

_Have you ever seen flowers in the breeze?_

_He nodded his head, clutching at her fingers in anticipation._

_And have you ever seen reeds in the river?_

_He nodded again, practically bouncing in excitement._

_And what do they look like they’re doing?_

_Dancing Miss Rosie! He had squealed, falling back into the couch as he thought about all she had said._

Jason smiles fondly at those memories, at a time much simpler than this. Where the sky was a canvas and music was stored in the wind. He can almost believe Miss Rosalind as he surveys his surroundings. There is something magical about this place. Like no matter what’s going on in the world, this will never be touched by it. He can’t help but run his fingers along the bark of a willow tree and sink his feet into the lush grass under it. At least out here he doesn’t have to be anyone but Jason Grace. The marigolds dancing in the evening breeze do not care that he is Crown Prince of Caelum. And the blades of grass that hold his weight don’t mind that he is human, that he has to function, even when it’s inconvenient, inconceivable. Best of all, nothing around here cares that he’s anything at all. If he gives his name to the river bed they will tuck it in and let it rest.

So he sits under the willow tree, letting his name drift down the stream, and spins fantasies of a life long lost.

When he makes his way back to the cabin, hours later, he’s almost convinced himself that the world has stopped. And he is nothing but a vessel, strong enough to bend time.

It is like a bucket of lava on his skin, then, when Percy meets him at the door and drops the words he doesn’t want to hear.

“We leave tomorrow. There was a shootout at your castle.”

Jason Grace falls to his knees, and holds down the bile in his throat, as molten eyes and burning hands flash in his mind.

I’m coming for you Leo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts, beautiful human!


	5. The Kingdom Of Caelum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: blood, death, graphic depictions of death

Percy Jackson sees the impending stone of Caelum Castle and he wants to escape to the sea. He wants to rush back to his cabin and bury himself in the sand where nobody will ever bother him. He has always hated this castle, hated it for its height and its morgue grey colour, and the way it looms over the world like a shadow of…. gods it seems inappropriate to say death.

Jason had been in some state of quiet distraught since yesterday evening and he can’t blame him. It is fracturing to hear news like that, to not have anymore to go on. When Percy’s guards had come to tell him the news he had buckled at the knees. They just managed to catch him. He demanded more information, anything else. They shook their heads, eyes heavy with heartache and said,

“The only thing we know Prince is that the King is safe.”

Now the car eases onto the cobbled path that leads up to the castle and before it can come to a stop Crown Prince Jason Grace is frantically clicking at his seatbelt and hurtling himself out of the vehicle. Percy sees him race up the endless stairs and disappear through the foreboding wooden doors. He looks to his guards, questions as evident in his eyes as in theirs. When the car finally parks in whatever designated space they have he climbs out and prowls towards the castle, eyebrows scrunched as he looks for his husband.

Caelum Castle is as hollow on the inside as it looks from the out. Opulence drips from the crystal chandeliers. The smell of decadence emitting from the ivory-wood furniture and accompanying silk drapes make his head spin. He doesn’t even bother to hide his wince as he steps through the diamond archways. He knows the king put them there because when the sun hits the room at just the right angle a kaleidoscope of colour fractures around the space. On the rare occasions he has come here he has never quite felt like the castle was lived in. It felt more like a decorative structure, a face for the people. But there is warmth emitting from the candelabrum in the entrance. And although the velvet red carpet layed under his feet looks like it got put down yesterday there is evidence of life in the tiny chip on the marble floor where Jason tried to hammer bubble-wrap, or the dent in the wooden panelling where a bunch of little guards in training were being chased by Monster Jason of the Sky and _someone_ smacked straight into the wall.

Percy isn’t aware of these details, isn’t aware of the life his husband had here. Instead he peers around corners and into room trying to find anyone. The castle seems to be empty, a mirage in an endless desert. He walks up the white marble staircase, looking at the portraits on the wall. They are full of grim faces and collared paint and he can’t help but compare them to the portraits in his own castle, which are colours, and smiles, and _joy_. He wonders briefly if Jason’s childhood was as happy as his; if Jason ever got to lick blue icing from the bowl the night before his birthday, or cuddle up next to his parents for movie night. Just then a shuffling from the end of the second floor grabs his attention and he’s moving towards it, thoughts discarded.

“Prince Grace?” He pokes his head around a doorway, a room of silk and fire and music greeting him. A gorgeous, midnight black piano sits in the center of the space, white keys glistening in the candlelight. The room is almost sinister in its set up. Like someone had been playing only a few minutes ago and go called away briefly. He expects a person to come strolling around the corner, stepping to the piano and sitting down to play. He tears his eyes away from the glorious instrument, clasping his itching fingers, and looks at the rest of the room. It seemed almost normal, but then his eyes catch on the slouched figure in the corner and bile crawls up his throat. There are puddles of ruby surrounding the person and he knows with horrifying clarity that they aren’t sleeping, aren’t merely resting before the pianist comes back. His shock is interrupted by another sound, a broken sound.

“Jason!” And then he’s sprinting towards the blood curling scream, towards the pain.

The wailing is endless like torture itself is finally learning to speak.

“JASON!” Percy is frantic now, he can’t find his husband and there’s so many doors and why the fuck is the scream echoing in his brain he can’t hear anything, “JASON!”

He slams into the edge of a frame as he skids to a halt. There standing in front of a dark wood door, blue eyes blazing and tear streaks like stained death on his face, is the Crown Prince.

“What’s the matter, what’s wrong?” Percy is breathless, panicked.

“There’s so much blood,” The blonde chokes, looking down, “This was his room and there’s so much blood.”

“Who’s room?” Green eyes widen at the pool of scarlet, “Prince, who’s room?”

Jason falls forward, Percy barely managing to catch him, “There is— there’s so much blood.” Tears soak through their clothes.

“Do you want me to go in and check?”

The blonde looks like he’s going to say no, looks like he’s going to work up the courage to do it but his eyes catch the red stained marble and he nods once.

“Stay here, only come in when I say.”

He nods again and then Percy is easing himself around his husband and opening the door.

At first there is nothing, just murky darkness and oddly shaped shadows. The furniture, some beds and couches, are aligned neatly in certain areas of the room but for the most part it is empty. Percy squints into the darkness, trying to find a light source. There is something hanging on the wall and he can’t quite make it out. The smell in the room is enough to make him wish he hadn’t eaten that slice of toast for breakfast.

“Can you see anything?” A call from the hallway.

“It’s really dark do you know where the light is?”

“Yea just move towards your left, it should be on that wall.”

“What do you mean should be? Do your lights move or something?”

“Shut up and find it.” He hears a hiss near his ear and it takes everything in him not to yelp. But finally he locates the switch and with a soft click the room is ablaze in warm yellow light. He blinks at the harsh difference, letting his eyes adjust. And then Percy Jackson, Crown Prince of Mare spots the artwork on the wall and the blood in his veins become poison. He whips his head around, ready to warn Jason not to look only to see to see his eyes already squeezed shut.

“Whatever you do, do not open your eyes.”

“What’s wrong?” The blonde is breathing hard, hands twisting at his sides, “What happened?”

“Keep them closed Grace,”

Percy looks at the grotesque image on the wall, his stomach doing somersaults. He is hurtled back to a time when his own castle had been bathed in blood.

_“Little One,” Someone shook his shoulders, “Little One I need you to get up!”_

_“What’s wrong Momma?” His voice was groggy with sleep, “Is it already time for breakfast?”_

_“No Little One. You’re going to stay with Grover for a little while okay. There’s big people stuff happening at the castle so you and Grover get to stay together.”_

_“Is everything okay momma?”_

_His mother’s ice blue eyes fractured, her lip trembling. His small hand reached up to touch her face, put his fingers to her cheek._

_“What happened momma?”_

_She shook her head and gathered him in her arms and then they were racing through the palace. He will never forget the screaming he heard when they stepped into the halls. It was like nails on a chalkboard, like ventirloquated suffering. And the smell— iron and death. Those walls he called home seemed dark and dangerous, full of monsters._

_“What’s happening momma?” Tears pooled in his eyes._

_“Some bad people Little One, but don’t worry you will be safe with Grover.”_

_“I don’t want to go momma, I want to stay with you!”_

_“I’m sorry Little One,”_

_And then she was shoving him in a car and waving goodbye. The last thing he saw was his mom’s broken gaze and the splattering of blood on her nightgown before the world faded._

“Just don’t open your eyes, I’m going to guide you out.” Percy says, wrapping his arms around his husband’s shoulders and taking small steps in the direction of the door.

Jason walks backwards, wrapped in Percy’s arms, eyes still shut tight, “Are we almost out?”

“Couple more steps,” He mutters and then they’re through and he’s pulling the door closed.

Just before he can shut it the blonde opens his eyes. Crown Prince Jason Grace inhales sharply, turns around and throws up all over the floor.

“No, no, no, no, no—” He cries, sobs, chokes.

Percy wants to curse but instead he gathers the Prince in his arms and slams the door closed.

Jason is heaving, tears making rivers over his cheeks, “No, no, no, no, no—” He looks up at the wooden entrance and throws up again.

“I love him, no, no.” He is screaming. “Bring him back! THIS ISN’T TRUE!”

Percy pulls them closer, ignores the fingernails cutting into his arm, the red marks marring his skin.

“I need to go in!” Jason heaves, trying to escape from their embrace.

“No!”

“Please, please, please,” He’s begging, lightning eyes are flashing, “I just need to see him! I love him I need him please.”

“I can’t I’m sorry.”

“PLEASE!”

The world trembles, cracks, crumbles to dust under that request. Despair is a blanket over their shoulders, agony their final friend.

“Please Percy please,” The blonde is sobbing into him, pulling him closer and pushing him away.

“I am sorry.”

“We were supposed to run away, to live in the clouds, to become nomads of the sky. We were supposed to be _together_.”

His heart clenches, twists in his chest for the person in his arms, at the sheer excruciation of the moment.

“You will meet again.*

"I need to see him!”

The black-haired Prince sits there on the floor, stroking his husband’s back and blinking away the image he had seen.

For there, on the otherside of the door, hangs the Tapestry of Agony. A noose around his neck and daggers pinning his limbs to the wall, is a guard— tawny brown skin leeched of colour, once bouncy curls saturated with blood, and coffee brown eyes gazing endlessly at nothing.

Leo Valdez, Personal Guard and Secret Lover to the Crown Prince of Caelum, is dead.

Percy Jackson pulls his husband closer and closes his eyes to the world. Somewhere in the castle a piano starts playing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts, beautiful human!


	6. The Poetry of Stories

_Once upon a time in a land known for water and jewels there lived a young boy. He had skin the colour of soil and eyes the colour of oceans and were your gaze to ever fall upon this little figure you knew the earth was created just for him. The boy lived in a white-stone castle, surrounded by guards in clanking silver armour and blue-feathered helmets. Swords gleamed with their newness. They are decoration, a rite of passage. They only reflect the water. Children darted between their legs as they swoppeed shifts and if you looked closely the boy was often one of them. The castle stood proud and tranquil in the kingdom and gave the people hope._

_**If the white walls stand tall the queen will rise above all.** _

_A piece of poetry long since washed away.That single line ran through the city streets like rain water. Ran into people’s homes, and under the wheels of rumbling cars. Generations had forgotten the poem to time but that line for it’s power and rhyme had weathered the changing tides. If you listened closely the trees still knew the words. But nobody ever heard. The world was too busy and the day too new to remember what it was like to become one with evergreens._

Percy Jackson wakes up with a gasp, heart beating like conga drums. His fingers curl into his chest, leaving red marks as he winces sleep away. The world is still pitch black; stars hidden behind a blanket of storms. He wonders if they find comfort wrapped in the clouds. If those white puffs feel as soft as they look. Sleep is faraway, a distant friend stuck at a cold airport terminal. So he drifts to the window, ignoring the wind prickling his skin and sits down at the bench. The chiffon curtains rustle softly, talking to him in a language he hasn’t quite yet learned. He knows they’re saying something important. They must be if they brush against his legs every few minutes. Everyone is always trying to tell him something important. Something life changing and groundbreaking. He wishes he could pause time for a little while. Stroll through the gardens and into the ocean without anybody running after him.

The curtain drifts towards him again and he sighs as if the universe has made him designated driver. An unwanted, unwilling task.

Somewhere a bird caws and he snorts softly, “Okay, okay. I’m handling it.”

He let’s the sounds of the wind take him through the endless corridors, let’s it carry him like a dying flower, like autumn leaves, like bonfire embers. The stone floor is cold under his bare feet and his body is littered with bumps. He misses the warmth of his castle. Misses the warmth of the hearth in every room and the smell of the sea that drifts in through open windows. Mostly, especially, he misses his mom. There is something distinctly missing from the Castle of Caelum. He hasn’t quite put his finger on it but it doesn’t feel right.

He doesn’t have time to delve into that thought because all at once everything goes quiet. A large door looms before him.

“So this is it huh?” His voice is soft, afraid to disrupt the silence.

Taking a deep breath, filling up his lungs with the air of the Kingdom of Wind, he knocks on the wood. It is gentle and solitary and he’s almost certain no-one heard it but his ears perk up anyway. He knows you can’t pick up footfalls on stone but it doesn’t stop his heart from racing in anticipation. The door opens with a soft click and tired eyes look at him.

“Percy,” Jason’s voice is raspy with crying and his heart shatters.

“Hey, can I come in?”

The blonde looks at him, brows furrowed and tear stains carved into his cheeks. Percy can see the tiredness in the prince’s bones, like x-rays of exhaustion. He’s about to say nevermind, about to walk away, walk past his own chambers and into the lifeless night. But the Prince nods once and moves aside.

He feels almost disappointed that he couldn’t escape. Disappointed he couldn’t just go back and never return. His mother’s voice flitters into his head.

_When your people are suffering you must lie down with them and ask them to tell you their story._

_Why mom?_

_Because little one when the time comes you will know what to do._

_How momma?_

_We are made of stories little one. We are made of all the things people tell us. Our dreams and hopes and memories are just threads in a tapestry and every person is connected to it._

_I don’t understand momma?_

_She smiled at him, perfect white teeth and dark blue eyes: When you think of me little one, what comes to mind?_

_Ten year old Percy frowned, Chocolate chip cookies, and your bedtime tales, and the beach, and hugs._

_And what do you think about Grover?_

_Percy’s green eyes had lit up like the sun: Play time and movies and ice-cream!_

_She laughed: And what about Dad?_

_His little brows furrowed: Fancy clothes and swords and paper and cuddles._

_And Princess Piper?_

_His nose scrunched up: Cooties! He squealed and then he was running around the room; the world a flowing river, him a little fish learning its current._

_You see little one, you didn’t think about bones or skin or blood. You thought of memories and stories. Do you understand now?_

_He nodded as he scrambled into her lap: I think so momma. So if my people tell me who they are I can use their stories to help them when they’re sore?_

_Almost little one. Half of hurt is because nobody listens. If you just listen to what your people are saying they will not hurt so much._

_Is that because we have to tell our stories momma?_

_“Exactly. That is how we live. And live on.”_

Prince Perseus Jackson takes a deep breath and steps into the room. Immediately he can feel the icy wind, so much colder up here, stinging his bare arms, chest, legs. Save for the small silk boxers covering his most sensitive parts his body is exposed to the brutal temperatures and he cannot hide a shiver as he settles on the couch. The fire has died long ago, maybe not even put on for the night, if the grey ashes and lack of heat are indication enough.

“What are you doing here?” The blonde prince looks at him.

“The curtains told me to come.”

“What?” He can hear the confusion, but more than that the weight of a thousand heartaches.

He wonders if every person who has their heartbroken feels like they’re the first to ever go through it. If that feeling is so perfectly human it feels unique and special to each one.

“Sometimes the world talks to me and sometimes I listen.”

“I don’t really know what game you’re playing but I’m not in the mood so if it isn’t an emergency,” Those eyes are ice blue, “And I honestly wouldn’t care even if it was, please get out.”

“I cannot.” He shrugs and pulls a velvet blanket over him.

“I’d appreciate,” Jason’s teeth grit, “If you respected my boundaries enough to leave. I am not in the mood.”

“The window is open, there is paper sitting on the desk and many crumpled pieces on the floor, and I can see you haven’t even sat on your bed, never-mind slept in it. What do you plan to do Grace?”

“You know what.” That voice is hard, malicious with fear, pain.

“I will not leave. And you will not either. You can sit there on your bed hating me till the sun graces us once more. You can punch me until I am the same colour as the dusk but I am not leaving.”

“I hate you. Leave me alone.” He can hear the tears hit the cold stone. He doesn’t react. A shadow blocks the moonlight finally peaking through the clouds.

“I said leave me the fuck alone!”

“I cannot do that Prince.”

“Don’t call me that.” He snaps, pushing his face into Percy’s, “Go away! I want to be alone.”

“I can’t Jason,”

“JUST LEAVE!” Golden fists pound at his chest, droplets of salt soaking into his skin, as if trying to wash away the bruising.

He grabs his husband’s hands gently and pulls him to the couch.

“I’m not going to leave you.”

“They all left.” Jason gasps, “They left. HE LEFT!”

The scream draws blood from his ears, pulls oxygen from his veins.

“I’m here. I’m not leaving. I am here.”

“Please,” Sobs wrack that broken body, and Percy can feel the first cracks in a kingdom. “Please don’t leave me. Please, please please.”

He rubs his hand over a shaking back and mutters over and over again, “I will not leave you.”

Prince Jason Grace cries a new ocean and he names it after the fire that caused it. When the sun peaks over the horizon, fracturing a wall of crystal, and attempting to warm those cold grey stones, Percy Jackson takes his husband to bed and ignores the fissures running under his feet.

_Once upon a time in a kingdom known for storms and gold there lived a little boy. He had eyes of lightning and skin the colour of sunlight and if you ever caught a glimpse of him you knew only the darkest nights could ever produce something so beautiful. The guards are bathed in riches, weighed down by diamonds cut from dreams and earrings weighted with the pureness of gold. Swords are varied and prized. Bred for fodder. Used at will. He lived in a castle made of grey stone and it loomed over the kingdom like a black cloud. The people looked at it and shied away. For they too had a poem about their crown but they remembered every line._

_**Those who fell under the shadow of stone were sure to be left to ruin by their king and cursed forever alone. A young boy with hair spun from starlight is trapped inside. Who will save him if he cannot hide?** _

_Forgetting was a death warrant._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts, beautiful human!


	7. The Rose That Grieves

Percy Jackson traces the insignia under his fingers, feels the gravelly texture of the stone and the way each word engraves itself into his skin.

_militat omnis amans_

He hears Jason’s words in his head, let’s the conversation loop in his mind.

_“What are we doing here?”_

_“I needed to take a walk in the gardens. I can’t stay in that stone monstrosity for another second.”_

_“And you wanted me to come with you?”_

_“If you don’t want to be here you can leave.” His husband snapped._

_He just hummed in acknowledgment._

_“Sorry,” The Prince mumbled, “I’m just a little volatile right now.”_

_“What does this mean?” Percy figured it was time for a subject change._

_“Our motto?”_

_“Yes, I’ve seen it everywhere and I’ve never managed to ask anyone about it.”_

_**“Every lover is a soldier.”** _

_He looked at the blonde, caught those dull blue eyes. “Really?”_

_“It’s a long story.”_

_“Shall we sit on the bench so you can tell me?”_

_And then someone had called them inside to go over the details of the King’s address that would be happening in the coming week._

_“Another time.” Jason winced._

Now Percy sits in the garden on a wooden bench, basking in the warmth and protection of an Arrowood tree in full bloom. The soft pink flowers catch on the wind and shower him with petals every so often. The sky is unusually blue for the winter but the chill in the air makes up for it. It is a deadly bite, waiting for any piece of skin to be exposed. The grass is green and cushioning under his feet and the soft cashmere pants his wearing are keeping the icy breeze at bay. He takes a deep breath in. This weather is dopamine in his bloodstream; is full of new beginnings and _life_.

His fingers brush against the engraved insignia again and he cannot help but wonder the tale behind it. The story of his own kingdom’s symbol is one he keeps close to his heart, treasures with every blink of his eyes. His emblem flashes across his mind: a silver sword slicing through a cresting wave, the droplets from it turn bronze in the sun and fall to make their maxim: _datum amore ad defendendum_. The story is gruesome and bloody and full of honour. Percy’s father used to tell it to him on the rare occasion he would tuck him in bed.

_There was once a man, brave and strong._

_Like you dad?_

_**His father laughed and ruffled his curls**. Shh my Starfish and listen to the story of Arroyo the Saviour._

_**So Percy snuggled into his cotton sheets, a panda pillow tucked under his chin and blinked up in anticipation.** _

_Arroyo was a little boy who lived with his mom and his sister and his sibling, near the ocean. Everyday little Arroyo went down to the docks with his sibling and they would stand there selling bracelets their family made. It was the only way they could get money to eat._

_Did their king not give them food dad? **His green eyes were wide with horror.**_

_Not everyone is kind my son. Some days little Arroyo and his sibling came back with no money and his mom would smile at them and say “It is okay. Today we eat fish and tomorrow we feast.” So they sat down at the table and ate their fish just like they did every night and not once did Arroyo or his siblings complain. For they knew that a tomorrow would come where the feast would be greater than the fish and it was no use leaving today’s meal in the hope of tomorrow’s promises._

_**Little Percy frowned, confused at what his father was trying to say. But the King was lost in his own world now, matching ocean eyes far away from this bedroom, in this time and place.** _

_One day Arroyo’s mother got sick and his siblings stayed with her while he went to sell bracelets. But when he got home, a small pouch of coins rattling in his pocket, his house was rubble and his family were gone._

_Gone? **Percy gasped** , Where dad? What happened?_

_**His father snapped his head to the present, looked down at his son.** They died my Starfish. Someone killed them._

_**Tears pooled hot and fast in his little eyes** , Why dad?_

_Because Starfish Arroyo’s mother was not who she claimed to be and people do not like what they do not understand. But nobody knew that Arroyo was safe, that he had made it out alive. And when he finally grew up, his mother’s blood strong in his veins he came back to the village. And there he demanded to see the people who had layed his home to waste all those years ago. The people trembled before him, his might and vengeance a force they could not tame. Arroyo only asked once. And when nobody could tell him anything he smiled with his teeth and drowned the town. His tail creating waves that engulfed the world._

_Arroyo was a mermaid? **Percy didn’t like it when dad told stories, he always left things out and it was confusing to listen to.**_

_He was a beast my Starfish. **His father said softly, eyes glittering with excitement,** For you see his mother was the Exiled Queen of the Ocean and she had fallen in love with a mortal man. A forbidden romance._

_So what happened to Arroyo? Did he kill everyone?_

_He drowned the village but saved one person. A little girl by the name of Mare for she had looked at him, with his burning anger and broken soul, and offered him the pearl she kept in a pendant at her neck. For her he bowed down and accepted the gift._

_Did she become his queen dad?_

_No Starfish, she was much too young. Instead Arroyo took her to his home deep deep in the waves and she lived there as his friend, as his family. But sometimes Mare had to go to land for she did not have the blood Arroyo did and she could not survive in those brutal waters for long. Arroyo would take her there every full moon and bring her home every new moon. One night when she was due back on land a terrible, terrible force lurked in the water. But Arroyo didn’t feel it and Mare could never have known. They said their goodbyes as they always did, promising to see each other soon._

_**Percy squeezed his father fingers, little lip trembling slightly.** _

_Arroyo dived back in but something slammed into his side. He smashed into the rocks of the village and the whole town quaked. The creature attacked Arroyo, its huge body and spiked tail hitting him everywhere. Mare screamed but there was nothing she could do. And then Arroyo came up to look at her because he knew in his heart that he was not to survive this fight. He waved to his friend, his family through the years and when she waved back the monster rose from the waves and bit Arroyo. He went down so softly it was almost as if he had chosen to sleep. Mare knew the monster would come for her village next and she would not allow it to destroy the only other thing she loved. So she grabbed a sword, sharp gleaming silver, and ran across the ocean. Her feet light and swift against the rolling waves. The creature burst out in a flurry of rage but it was not prepared for the strength of Mare and when it met her sword it let out a shriek so vile the dead curdled. Blood sprayed everywhere as the sword fell from her hand and into the waves below._

_Did Mare live dad? **He yawned, fear giving away to sleepiness.**_

_Mare is the spirit of the ocean my son. She lives in here. **His father tapped his little chest softly before bending down to place a kiss on his forehead.**_

_I hope I’m brave like Mare dad._

_You are braver still my Starfish. **He whispered.**_

Percy blinks out of the memory, rubbing at the ache in his chest that accompanied every thought about his dad. It has been more than a decade since that fateful night but the missing never gets easier.

He hugs his knees to his chest and watches two birds fight over a small peach dangling precariously from the tree. Such simple pleasures and petties. There are at least sixty other peaches, just as perfectly red and ripe, on the tree but these birds continue to chirp indignantly at each other. He wonders if it’s purposeful. If maybe they just want the connection. It’s not really about the peach. It’s about having someone to argue against, talk to, be with. Gods, he scowls at himself, he must really be lonely if it’s come to this.

The bench suddenly becomes uncomfortable, like every splint of wood is trying to pierce his skin. With a heavy sigh he pulls himself up and strolls towards the stone castle. In the week that he’s been here it still hasn’t felt any more friendly. He misses his castle, misses the home he has there. But his husband is here so he must be too. At the very least Grover will arrive this afternoon and they can spend some time together. He needs this meeting, needs to see his friend and some semblance of normal. A little voice in his head argues that he’s the one who’s been straying from his angered promises. The one that’s been sleeping besides Jason under the pretense of nightmares. He pushes the little voice deep down, buries it in the darkness where it can shiver and cower without his knowledge or concern. As if his thoughts summon the man, his husband appears around the corner and offers him a swift smile.

“I was just coming to find you.”

“You’ve changed.” Is his reply.

Prince Jason did indeed don a new outfit. Perfectly pressed tunic the colour of the sky and a gold chain attached dangling from the small square pocket on his left breast to the first button of the coat. His pants are a deep blue, the same golden threads glinting in the sunlight. But it’s the small white rose tucked into his chest pocket that Percy is focused on.

“What is that?”

“When we mourn in the kingdom we wear white roses to signify gentle death and prosperous living.”

He nods stiffly, unsure if it’s appropriate to ask if he may participate in the custom. Luckily he is saved when Jason’s blue eyes pin on him, “Would you like to wear one?”

“Please. This is my Kingdom now too. I feel it would be a great disrespect to not.”

The prince looked at him, blonde hair ruffling softly as the breeze caressed their skin and flittered between his dancing fingers. He stood there unmoving while his husband studied him like a Rubik’s cube that needed _just_ the right pattern to fix it.

“Come with me.”

They walk together, through the field of poppies bursting with colour, past the grove of fruit trees equally bright and heavy with sweet delights, over the small bridge that marks the _Pond of Storms_ , or at least according to the plaqued waterfall that fed it.

“Why that name?”

“Just before a storm hits the water goes pitch black like storm clouds.”

He stares at the clear, brilliant aquamarine of the pond, his rippling reflection staring back and wonders if it’s a lie, or a wives’ tale.

“You still owe me a story.”

“About?”

They cross the bridge and turn a corner.

“About your insignia.”

“Why do you like them so much?” Jason turns to him, curiosity burning in his expression, “Stories I mean.”

“They’re the easiest way to understand the core of something. A language only the lived know how to speak.”

“I’ve heard about yours, your symbol.”

“How?” He’s the intrigued one now.

“My father liked us to know about the neighboring kingdoms. I never understood it then, always managed to fall asleep in our history lessons, but I guess it’s been helpful.”

“My mother didn’t know yours.” He says softly, “She is the Keeper of Worlds so she was able to tell me all kinds of tales but she said she never knew the origins of Caelum.”

The Prince shakes his head, “It’s only passed down from king to to descendant. Sharing it with anyone is a crime against the kingdom.”

Percy’s head snaps back in shock, “For telling a story?”

His husband just shrugs like its the most normal thing in the world.

“Why would you tell me then?”

“Sometimes tradition is bullshit.”

“But you’d still be committing a crime?”

“Gives life a little thrill.” His smile is wicked as he winks an aquamarine eye and steps through the small wooden door built into the hedge.

“Welcome to the _Garden of Hearts_.”

Spread out before them is a sea of roses so glorious in their beauty it makes Percy’s soul stutter. There is every colour under the setting sun. Starting with bleach white the roses lay across the field bleeding into cream then yellow then orange then red then pink. Rows upon rows of soft love and romance.

He doesn’t manage to hold in a gasp as he drops to his knees and caresses a maroon petal. The tears in his eyes go unacknowledged even when they spill over and water the earth. He’s almost certain the flower blooms in his hand.

“This is…” He breathes. He doesn’t have the words. They are dust particles violently swept under a rug. They are grains of sand smashed into the earth under the weight of feet. They are simply gone.

“I’m glad you like it.” Jason smiles at him and the halo of sun around his head makes Percy weak at the knees.

“Who did this? Who planted this?”

“My sister, Annabeth.” The blonde looks around, caught in a time long ago, “She did it in memory of our mom.”

“It reminds me of mine.”

What he doesn’t tell his husband is that more than that, it reminds him of a friend he left far behind. Of a friend he was willing to marry. A friend he was willing to _love_.

He reaches forward and plucks a satin white rose from the small bush. But as he’s pulling away his finger catches on a thorn and suddenly the rose is disintegrating to the floor and those pure white petals are splattered with rubies.

“Fuck.” He mutters sucking on the wounded skin in an attempt to stop the blood.

“Here,” Jason winces in sympathy, holding out a bleached pocket square.

“Thank you,” He offers a gracious smile through the sting of pain. “And I’m sorry about the roses.”

“It’s okay, the blood will wash off with the next rains.”

He just nods and cradles his throbbing digit.

“Are you okay?”

“I’ve been stabbed before but somehow the little cuts always hurt the worst.”

For the first time in well maybe ever, he hears his husband laugh. And it is _godlike_ , a thing of beauty and splendour. Something deep in his chest unfurls gently.

“We’ll go inside and get some disinfectant and a plaster on that.” Jason promises before bending down to cut another rose, carefully extracting it from the web of thorns and leaves it buried itself in.

“Here,” He offers it.

Percy takes a step closer, still clutching his finger, and silently asks if he can put it on for him. Those blue eyes widen slightly, but that’s all the surprise the Prince shows. 

They step together and the blonde softly places the flower in his emerald green tunic. Jason smooths his hand over the area distractedly and stares up at him. Their eyes clash in a look of confusion, and curiosity, and something wholly unnatural.

“We should go.” The Prince whispers.

He swallows hard and nods but neither make a move. He can smell his husband’s fresh minty breath and see the micro flecks of grey in those eyes. Gods, how has he never noticed how strong his jaw is. How there’s the tiniest beauty-mark on the bridge of his nose. And the small crease in his brow that makes his whole face look so much older, look like the king he will one day be.

A cacophonous shriek from above rips them apart in a jump of fright. The low gliding hawk over head seems to narrow its eyes at the pair before flying back to its master. _Report on the Princes: they’ve almost started tolerating each other._

Jason turns away and starts for the carved door once more. Percy stares at his back, trying to gather himself, swiping the borrowed pocket square across his bruising skin. His kingdom’s maxim flashes in his mind again. _Datum amore ad defendendum_. Given in love for protection. He takes a shaky breath before following his husband back to the castle.

The _Pond of Storms_ flushes charcoal. And behind him, where his blood had spilled, the petals of an ice-white rose turn crimson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts, beautiful human!


	8. The King's Address

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edit: lmao a kind darling pointed out to me that i never told anyone the meanings for the roses on here and i just gotta say im sorry for my dumbassery. Here it is:  
> one for sorrow  
> two for joy  
> three for a girl  
> four for a boy  
> five for silver  
> six for gold  
> seven for a secret never to be told  
> eight for a wish  
> nine for a kiss  
> ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss  
> eleven for health  
> twelve for wealth  
> thirteen beware its the devil themself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: drugging  
> CW: grief, heartbreak  
> 

Jason Grace awakes to the sun streaming onto his bed and the soft breathing of something, someone? He rubs at his eyes, trying to wash away the sleep and get his body into its beating rhythm. The snoring, as he determines, gets louder, and he frowns, trying to locate the source. A small little ball of fur shakes its head sleepily and blinks up at him.

“Hello there,” He smiles in confusion, “And what are you doing here?”

It’s black head tilts as it gets up and looks at him curiously. He stares right back.

“Well you’re on my bed little one, I should be the only confused one.”

The dog blinks and then yaps once. Jason can’t help but laugh at its big eyes and hesitantly wagging tail.

“Well come on then.” He holds out his arms. And that’s all it takes before the little animal is bounding towards him. Tongue out and excitement racing in its bones.

“You certainly are a lovely surprise. I wonder who you’re from?” He rubs its sleek black coat, scratching at its belly.

The puppy licks his cheek, paws pressing against his bare chest in an effort to stay up. Jason plays with him a little longer, trying to keep it from mauling his skin before the King’s Address today.

“Alright little one,” He picks it up and lays it gently on the floor, “Let me get dressed and we can find out who you are alright?”

He’s surprised at how quickly he attaches himself to the animal. He hopes it’s a stray, or at least ownerless right now, so that he may claim it. Already the perfect name is looping in his mind. But he doesn’t give the thought weight, not yet anyway. Better to save himself the undoubted disappointment when he has to return it.

The puppy yaps at his feet, turning in circles and generally vibrating with energy as they pad across the wooden floor and into his bathroom.

The high arch, supported by stone pillars, lends itself to a room fit for royalty. The prodigious bathtub that sits in one corner and overlooks the gardens gleams in the morning light, its silver edges bright. And the simple basin on the opposite end of the room stands on a solitary piece of wood, carved so many years ago. The mirror above it is the truly magnificent piece of the room, with gold detailing like branches of an Elder-tree snaking around the edges and meeting at the top to form their insignia. An armoured soldier, holding his sword over his heart.

He walks to the basin, careful not to step on the over excited dog, and stops dead in his tracks. His sink, clear only last night, now held something he certainly didn’t put there.

“What do you suppose this means?” He asks the puppy, as he plucks it out.

The dog looks up at him, blinks and then proceeds to pee all over the floor.

Jason just sighs, and mutters to himself about expecting it.

_The single blood red rose forgotten._

Sometime, and more cleaning than he’s willing to account for, later he’s dressed and heading out of his rooms. The little pup is trailing him, sniffing at everything they walk passed. He greets the people of the castle as they bow before him and carry on their way. Nobody says anything about the animal but he doesn’t expect them too. His father had instilled such a sense of fear in them they daren’t question anything members of his family did. He hates it. When he becomes King he hopes he can change all of that. It’s no use running a kingdom if the people you rule do not even trust you, _like you._

He walks into the dining room, the long table filled with decadent breakfast treats and all-consuming smells.

“Good morning,” He says politely, dragging his chair back and sitting down.

“What’s the curious little creature next to you?” Prince Perseus asks.

“Oh,” He had momentarily forgotten about the puppy, getting lost in his thoughts. “I found this little one at the foot of my bed this morning. I’d hoped someone here might have more answers.” He scratches the dogs head and holds in a laugh as it growls contentedly.

Just then the King walks in and everyone at the table bows their head in greeting.

“Father,” He calls softly, once everyone settles back down, “Do you know who left this dog in my room?”

“The grounds keeper,” The King says gruffly, already digging into his plate of eggs and sausages, “Some of the guard dogs had babies recently and he believed you’d like one.”

“So it’s mine?” He almost can’t believe it. Nothing in this castle, in his life, came without a price, without reason.

“If you’re so inclined. But do keep it out of the way, and especially out of the consul rooms.” His father’s blue eyes flash with warning, but Jason is too busy playing with his puppy to notice. The dog is barking and bouncing and causing mayhem at his feet but he doesn’t care because it’s his and he loves it and it’s his.

His father engages in a discussion with one of their council members. And his husband, gazes at him, unexplainable expressions passing across his face. Jason doesn’t see this either. He’s caught up in the little ball of fur, whispering his name over and over again. _Nox_.

He finishes eating breakfast in a hurry, racing to get to the gardens and finally spend some bonding time with his puppy.

“Son,” His father calls, stopping him dead in his tracks, “Do not let that animal distract you from what’s to come. You have a speech.”

Jason feels his body shut down, feels the sorrow and ache like pointed knives in his chest. Even two weeks later he doesn’t know if he can do this. If he can get up in front of his kingdom and talk about the tragedy like he wasn’t directly affected. Like his heart had not died along with his guards.

He stumbles out of the room and races towards the open air. His puppy barks next to him, little legs too short to keep up with him. But he can’t slow down, he has to get out out out. So he picks up the four legged creature and sprints out the castle doors. He doesn’t see the new decoration sitting on the mantlepiece. The vase rattles softly as he rushes past.

_And the petals from the two red roses, flutter to the floor._

The morning is spent throwing his old tennis balls for Nox and rewarding him with treats the grounds keeper managed to get his hands on. By the time they’re done the day is fast bleeding into the afternoon and the time for his speech. Nox collapses in his arms, nuzzling his little belly. He deposits the pup in his bedroom, making a mental note to acquire a dog bed and smiles as the little thing stretches out on the window seat, basking in the sun, and closes its eyes.

A knock sounds at his door.

“Come in.”

There’s a soft whoosh and then footsteps. He looks up to see his husband, a sight he can admit, makes his eyes graze hungrily.

The Prince is wearing a suit of the deepest blue, lined with gold where it caught the light. He knows its a play on the colours of his kingdom, to show supprt and solidarity for the upcoming event. So his smile is wide, full of genuine joy as he gets up and stands before him.

“Hello,” He looks into this green eyes, more blue because of the clothing, “What are you doing here?”

“I just came to check how you were.” Percy Jackson says softly, staring at him just as intently.

“I’m good,” He nods, as if trying to convince himself, “I just want to get it over with.”

“It’s going to be hard.” The Prince grimaces, “But you are prepared, and you care. That is the most important thing.”

“You talk as if you’ve done this before?” His tone is gentle, true. For it is entirely possible that his husband had done this before. This was not the first kingdom to witness the death, murder, of their own.

Percy just gazes past him and out the window, the rays catching his eyes.

“What’s your pup’s name?”

“Nox.”

“Ah,” He nods, “Very apt.”

They share a rare smile, and unbeknownst to both of them the sun shines a little brighter.

“I should be off. I have some things to do before the speech.” A faraway expression crosses his face, fondness bleeding in and out so fast Jason isn’t quite sure he catches it.

“A lover?” He teases.

The Prince glances at him sordidly, “A friend.”

“Woman, man, or pal?” He dares to ask, dares to push a little.

“Pal?” Percy laughs.

“For our nonbinary and gender-fluid and agender people.” He grins.

“Woman.” Percy looks to the ceiling, eyes unfocused, cheeks flushed.

“Seems like quite the important lady.”

“Childhood friend.”

“Prince.” Someone calls from behind them.

He turns, sees a woman’s head poking around his door, and knows its time.

“The King’s Address starts soon. You’re requested in the balcony room.”

He gives her a nod, taking deep breaths.

“Goodluck Jason.” Percy mutters. He reaches out a hand as if to give an encouraging squeeze but drops it before their skin can make contact.

_And on his way out Prince Perseus stops to smell the three red roses sitting in a small jug by the entrance table._

Jason takes another deep breath, and another, and another. It is now. There is no never.

“Good evening citizens of Caelum,” The King starts, “It is with great sadness, heartache, and regret, that we inform you of the attack and killing of twenty palace members.”

The gasps from the crowd is weighted, grief and sorrow already settling in.

The beating in his heart drowns his father out, he can’t even feel his fingertips. Everything is blurry, faraway, not real. And there in the corners of his eyes he can see flames dancing.

“Now the Crown Prince will address you, and pave the way forward.”

He wants to hurl, to sink into the floor and become the gravel under someone’s feet. Inconsequential, discarded, unknown.

“Good afternoon my people.” He says. There is true sadness trembling in his voice. Someone holds a hand, palm facing towards the sky. Their symbol of peace, and hope.

He echoes it and takes a deep breath.

“I cannot speak for all the souls we have lost but I knew some personally. A few were my assigned guards and lived near me as wonderful, brave heroes. Protecting me from rose thorns and flying arrows.”

The crowd murmurs, laughter and sobbing in equal parts. Grief is a funny thing. Sorrow and death and sadness is strange. Because it is inconsistent. So very fragile and chaotic in its execution.

More people raise their palms to the sky. He spots someone in the front with a tattoo winding around their arm. _Four red roses._

“I will never forget their faces, or the good and worthy things they did for this kingdom. Therefore as per permission by the families, each soul will get a royal burial. They will also be honoured with monuments around the kingdom. And every family who has lost their loved one to this horrific act will be compensated for as long as their line may continue.”

Everyone in the crowd put their hands to the sky.

“Someone I knew well once told me, ‘we are but burning embers in a dying fire and it takes only one exhale to ignite us. Do not lose courage because the fire is low, instead gather together and wait for the wind to blow.”

He steps away from the balcony, tears streaming down his face and stands beside his court as his father thanks their people and bids them well.

It is over, and he hurts everywhere, but at least he never has to experience that moment ever again in his life. By the time he gets back to his room after endless reporters and meetings with his advisors he’s about ready to crash into bed and wake up in the next eternity. But there’s an excited, energetic puppy waiting for him as he enters and he knows he must put off any plans for sleep.

So with a tired giggle he picks up his dog and takes him out to the gardens. They play about for sometime, running up and down and rolling in the grass. He doesn’t care that he’s getting his suit dirty, that he looks disheveled and messy and in desperate need of a shower. Because the little face of cuteness is looking at him like he hangs the moon in the sky and nothing else matters.

His husband finds them on their backs staring up at the dark expanse.

“Hey,” The Prince says softly, “You did great today. And what you’re doing for the families? That’s…” Those green eyes are overflowing with emotion, “Wow.”

“It’s the very least we can do.” He shrugs, wanting to end this conversation. If he spends anymore time thinking about that fateful day he’s sure hell combust with pain and anger.

“I brought out some snacks,” Percy offers a silver tray. “Figured you didn’t eat anything.”

He looks up with a grateful smile and takes the small sandwiches.

“Its a beautiful piece,” The Prince mumbles, sitting down and tracing his fingers along the embellished edge.

“My mother really loved those.” _He points to the five roses twined into the metal,_ “She was always finding things with them.”

“They’re beautiful flowers.”

The two princes sit in silence, Nox lolling to sleep between them. The night air is crisp, inviting. The kind of night to spend in someone’s arms. To get lost on a backroad and discover a fairy pool by the light of the moon. The kind of night that calls for adventure.

Percy shivers, bringing his knees to his chest. “Can you smell that?”

He sniffs the air. “No?”

“Something sweet, like perfume?”

He sniffs again, trying to take in lungfuls of air. The faintest hint of sweetness hits his senses.

“Yea, I can.” He frowns looking around.

“What do you suppose it is?”

“The flowers maybe?”

“Oh gods, it’s getting stronger.” His husband scrunched his nose

“Maybe we should go?” He’s unsure, but there’s a strange feeling in his gut.

Quickly Percy gathers the tray while he picks up Nox. But as they get to their feet their bodies pitch forward. Swaying.

“What’s going on?” He groans, “My legs are so shaky .”

“I think,” Percy whispers, fumbling over his feet, “We’ve been drugged.”

They fall to the floor, bodies too weak to hold them up. A gold coin falls from the Prince’s pocket. They turn to each other, skies and oceans clashing. All at once they know tomorrow may never come.

_Slowly, gently their eyes droop closed and somewhere on the garden floor, stems hacked off, are six red roses._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts, beautiful human!


	9. The Rebellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edit: lmao a kind darling pointed out to me that i never told anyone the meanings for the roses on here and i just gotta say im sorry for my dumbassery. Here it is:  
> one for sorrow  
> two for joy  
> three for a girl  
> four for a boy  
> five for silver  
> six for gold  
> seven for a secret never to be told  
> eight for a wish  
> nine for a kiss  
> ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss  
> eleven for health  
> twelve for wealth  
> thirteen beware its the devil themself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> assafir (arabic): little sparrows  
> TW: kidnapping, torture, graphic depictions of violence; blood  
> 

_“Percy” The little girl squealed running towards him, her dark braids flying behind her._

_He gave a toothy grin, slamming into her. “Hello Little Dove.”_

_“When momma told me you were coming I immediately asked Anisa to set up a picnic for us.”_

_“Did you manage to get the stuff?” He whispered conspiratorially._

_Naturally her voice lowered as well as their heads knocked softly together, “I did but why do we need it?”_

_“I’ll show you. But we have to go to the house.”_

_“The house house?” Her coffee eyes widened._

_He nodded gravely, and the eight year old that he was disappeared under that expression._

_“Okay, let’s go.” She took a deep breath and pulled him along._

_“Anisa!” Her little voice rung out against the cold stone of the castle, “Anisa are you here?”_

_A lady rounded the corner. She fidgeted briefly with the soft pink scarf around her head and then bent down so she was eye level with them. “What do you need Princess?”_

_Her voice was still a whisper as she replied, “Is the basket ready?”_

_“Yes,” Anisa said softly, “Why are we whispering.”_

_But the princess didn’t respond, instead squeezing Percy’s hand. “We’re going to the house.”_

_“Okay Princess I’ll send two guards to go with you.”_

_“No!” She shouted in alarm, and then quieter, “Please no. Will you just come with us? I know you can protect us.”_

_Anisa looked between them, studied their little hands clasped together, and the serious expressions on their faces._

_“Okay. But we can’t be gone too long without guards.”_

_“We will protect each other.” Percy finally spoke up, black eyebrows furrowing in determination._

_Anisa smiled, “Shall we then?”_

_They all made their way through the gardens, roses and chrysanthemums, and dahlias growing in abundance. Colour bloomed from every crevice and spilled over the pathways like an ever-growing rainbow. Percy let his free hand trail over the petals as they walked. His little feet stumbled over uneven pavement, racing along just slow enough to not raise suspicion. The Maze of Madness spread before them and he was tempted to ask if they could go in. It was his favourite part about the castle and he tried to go at every opportunity. It was his life long mission to learn all the ways to get through. But right now their mission at hand was much more important. He would as if they could go later. Finally they reached the edge of the maze and the divided area that led to their house. Anisa jangled the keys as she found the right one and opened the garden gate._

_“You are sure no guards Princess?”_

_She shook her head adamantly. “You **will** protect us. You know how.”_

_And then they were through the castle borders and into the Sylvastine Woods. The trees grew taller than he could see, taller than the clouds and the free birds. He’s sure they touched the sun. The underfoot was rough, dangerous, full of traps. But they recognized his step, his smell, the frequency he vibrated at, and the embraced him silently. He didn’t know of the forests malevolence. He was too little. The world was still full of wonder and adventure and everyone was a friend._

_They walked and walked and walked until the sounds of the castle and the city were far behind. Now all they could hear was a little brook bubbling through the trees, and the white noise of sunshine, ringing in their ears. The trees were quiet._

_“Are we almost there?” He asked._

_“Just behind that tree little one,” Anisa pointed to a sapling just sprouting from the ground on an unsteady trunk._

_And then they crossed it and the woods fell away. Morphed. Molded. There was nothing of the giant, looming trees and shadowed undergrowth. Instead there was sunshine and open fields and wild flowers of ever kind dancing before them. Percy laughed as the breeze tickled his flushed cheek. Magic is real. He was sure of it. They stood in front of a little cottage surrounded by creeping rose vines and the sweet scent of honey. The structure could not have been bigger than his bedroom at home but somehow he knew it held everything they could ever need._

_“I will wait on the bench A **ssafir**.” Anisa pointed to a wooden swing a little way down._

_“Thank you Anisa. We will call you when we are done.”_

_And then she turned to Percy, their small hands clammy from refusing to let go, and pulled him into the cottage._

_The first thing he noticed was the painting on the wall. In it stood a woman, her back facing them, her gaze to the sprawling hills before her and on her right was a little child. They were still as the dead but he swore the grass they stood on swayed gently. He blinked. It still moved. He blinked again. Everything swayed. He turned away. A small table sat in one corner and couch in the other but save for that there wasn’t much else._

_“Okay,” She said, her whisper rough with impatience, “Tell me the secret!”_

_“Where are they?” He held out a hand._

_She moved around him and dived over the couch, reaching for something. Her poufy navy blue dress scrunching underneath her. If her mother saw that she’d have a heart attack._

_“Okay here!” She huffed._

_**Suddenly seven red roses were shoved into his hands.** _

_He plonked himself down on the floor and waited for her to settle next to him._ _“You ready?”_

_Her already loose braids came undone as she nodded her head enthusiastically. He grabbed a rose gently between his fingers, taking a deep breath._

_“Watch.”_

_And then he swiped his thumb across a thorn and let the drops of blood fall onto the petals._

_She frowned at him but didn’t say anything. The dark blood pooled into the center of the rose, making the already red rose maroon with vibrancy._

_“Percy what is—”_

_“Shhhh Little Dove,” He stared intently at the rose._

_Ever so slowly it turned black. First just the center, where the had blood pooled but slowly it spread, like a shadow, like the night. Like **death**._

_The rose became the colour of darkness. And crumbled in his hands._

_The Princess of Hanaan let out a gasp, little hands covering her mouth in shock. Her brown eyes were wide as she took in her friend. He let her see him. Let her see all that he was and waited for her reaction._

_“How did you do that?” She muttered._

_“I don’t know,” He stared at her. “I hurt myself in the garden the other day and a little blood spilled on the grass and it…. did that.”_

_They went quiet for a while. Everything felt on the edge, dangling from a cliff. It felt unbalanced. He knew this was the moment that decided the rest of their lives. Even this young he knew the weight of her decision. He could lose his friend forever. And it made him want to cry. Because he loved her very much and if she did not understand, no-one will._

_“Can you do it again?”_

_So he did. And when she smiled, and then giggled, and then laughed as he kept at it he knew he she would love him to the end of the earth._

_“Can we show people?” She bubbled._

_“No,” He shook his head, scared, “I don’t want them to take it away.”_

_“But how can they?” She looked at him in confusion, “Let’s show Anisa at least.”_

_He could see the exhilaration in her eyes. “Okay,” He agreed reluctantly, “We can tell Anisa. But **only** Anisa.”_

_She squealed and pulled him up from the dusty wood floor, flying out of the house and to where her caretaker faithfully sat._

_“Anisa!” She yelled, “Look at what Percy can do!”_

_Anisa turned around to watch then come towards her and then smiled at the brightness in their eyes. The brightness of joy and innocence and wonder and childhood. She held a bunch of wild roses in her hands, picked only moments before from the bushes down by the brook._

_“What is it Princess?”_

_“Show her Percy!”_

_So he swiped yet another finger across a thorn and dropped the blood into the middle of the last rose the princess had brought._

_“What are you doing?” Anisa exclaimed, arms already reaching to yank his shredded fingers towards her so she could see them._

_“Just watch!” The princess said gleefully._

_The rose did what all the others had done. And the two children looked up at their caretaker with wide smiles._

_Anisa looked pale, her brown skin greyed. **Eight wild roses fell to the floor.**_

_“You cannot show this to anyone.” She choked out, “Not a single person.”_

_“What’s wrong?” The princess frowned, “Don’t you think it’s cool?”_

_Anisa gives her a pained smile, “You cannot show this to people. They will— just don’t show it.”_

_“Okay,” He whispered, because all of a sudden he was scared. What will happen if someone knows? Will he get into trouble? Will they? Tears pooled in his eyes._

_“No little one,” Anisa gave him a sorrowful look, “Do not cry.”_

_“I’m scared.” He sniffled, “What happens if someone finds out?”_

_“Come sit on the bench, both of you.” She suddenly got up and shuffled them into their place._

_“Okay I want you to close your eyes and make a wish for me. Anything in the whole world. And don’t open your eyes until I say so.”_

_And being children they were curious and excited and past worries are just that. In the past._

_So they squeeze their eyes shut, join hands. And wish on every shooting star, every 11:11, and full moon, and ember in the fire. Anisa put a cool palm to their foreheads and muttered something in a language they did not know. Their skin grew warm, and she reassured them it was just the angels taking their wishes._

_They smiled, eyes still closed, and nodded as her hand pressed against them._

_Percy’s body felt tired and he was glad his eyes were already shut._

_“I’m tired.” The princess yawned._

_“Me too,” He agreed._

_Anisa shushed them softly, “Go to sleep then, **Assafir**.”_

_“Goodnight Prince Percy.”_

_“Goodnight Little Dove.”_

_The breeze quieted, wrapping around them like a blanket and the little royals drifted off._

_They woke up in a bed, warmed by the sun._

_“Hello,” The Princess smiled, “When did you get here?”_

_“I don’t know,” He frowned, “But want to go play?”_

_“Sure. But first you were supposed to tell me something?”_

_“Only that we should use your new paint-set to paint my piano.”_

_"You got a new piano?” She clapped, “When are you going to play for me?”_

_“I promise the next time you come to my castle.”_

_Her returning smile made his heart flutter._

_“Come on Prince!” She bounded out of bed. “We haven’t gone to the house in a while. Let’s go have a picnic.”_

_And so he grabbed Princess Piper’s hand and they raced for the gardens, stopping by the Maze of Madness because nothing was urgent enough to skip it._

Crown Prince Percy Jackson groans, his head spinning as he tries to sit up. His hands meet rough concrete and confusion floods his senses. Why is he not feeling the silk of his sheets, or the leather of his couch, or the velvet of his cushions? He tries to open his eyes but they feel glued shut by something that can’t possibly be natural. The world is heavy on his shoulders, aching and weighted. Where is he?

His stomach growls and he wonders why he hasn’t eaten, and then his nose catches the smell of something truly vile and all that hunger turns into nausea in an instant.

“Fuck” He mutters, slapping a hand over this mouth and forcing his eyes open.

The room is dull; save for a single fluorescent on the far side there is nothing that emits light. No windows or candles or _anything_ really. The floor is in fact concrete and it scrapes against his nails. He tries to lift himself up but is slammed back into the ground by the weight of chains around his ankle.

What the fuck?

Panic fills his bloodstream. What is going on?

Frantically he looks around the room trying to find anything that’ll help him, clue him in, get him _out_.

That’s when he spots the shape curled into a ball on the opposite wall. He squints to see who it is in the minimal light. Recognition punches him and his stomach lurches. Oh gods is that…… Jason!

His heart is in his throat and his lungs are in on the floor as he scrambles to get to his husband.

“Jason,” He rasps. “Prince! Please wake up!”

He can’t get close enough. These chains are too short and so heavy. He needs to be there, he needs to make sure he’s alive. He needs to—

Crown Prince Jason Grace gasps and bolts straight up. “Percy!”

“I’m here,” He sobs, relief and fear marrying themselves in his tears, “I’m here.”

“What happened?” The blonde chokes out, “What’s going on?”

“We were drugged.” He cries. This is not a time to be brave. He doesn’t care if he’s supposed to be anyway. “I don’t know who or how or why.”

Jason attempts to get closer, to move towards him but his chains, black and heavy against his skin pull taut and he crashes to the floor with a crack of his palm.

“We can’t move far.” He winces, “I tried getting to you but I’m just out of reach.”

“What are these chains made of?” The blonde groans, “I feel like they’re burning my leg.”

“Really?” His eyes snap up, “They just feel cold against mine.”

The blonde turns to cradle his leg, inspecting the chain and tugging at it unsuccessfully. “It’s getting hotter.” He frowns, scratching at it.

He tries to move towards the Prince but it is no use, the chain just rips against his already bruised skin. 

“They’re so hot,” His husband claws at his skin, “I need to get it off!” Tears threaten to spill over his blue yes but he is too worried about getting the metal off him.

He tries to move again, tries to get to the other side, but his fingers miss the blonde by mere inches.

“Please!” Jason is screaming now, “Please get them off!”

Percy sobs, ribs stabbing at the agony he can hear so clearly in the Prince’s voice. He yanks at his own chains. Yanks hard, breaks his nails as he attempts to pry them off. He only succeeds in slicing his palm. With a curse he cradles it to him, staining the crumpled white shirt he has on.

“Are you okay?” His husband manages to gasp between his own pain.

“Fine,” He winces, “I’m sorry I can’t help.”

Jason weeps, pain making him wretch, filling the room with an acidic tinge. 

“Here.” Percy has to do something, he can’t watch others be in pain. He can’t watch his husband be in pain. No matter how up in arms their relationship might be. So he shrugs the shirt off his back, bloodstain and all and throws it to the blonde. “Try putting this under the chain and against your skin, maybe that will help.”

The Prince quickly scrambles for the shirt and shoves the material into the small space between the metal and his leg. The bloodstain touches the metal. They don’t notice, don’t care. They should.

“Better?” Percy asks.

“I think so, the burning is still intense but there’s no new waves.” He heaves a sigh.

They sit in silence as their pain ebb away to something tolerable. It gives him a chance to look around the room. Four walls, all concrete. No door. or at least no visible one. And certainly no windows. There are lines all over the walls. Tally marks and choppy images and there, behind Jason’s head, _scratched deeply into the concrete are nine roses._ He wonders who made those, _what_ made those. Because next to them are four claws marks. 

“How’s your hand?”

“Stinging,” His face scrunches, “But I’ll live.”

“Here let me see,” The blonde shuffles as close as possible and he does the same, holding out his palm.

“I can almost reach you.” His husband strains, fingers barely brushing against each other.

He pulls against his confinement trying to reach that golden hand.

Jason’s chain snaps and he lurches forward.

“How?” They stare at the dust where the chain once was.

“What just happened?” Blue eyes are wide and bright with shock.

“I don’t know but you think you can do that to me?”

“The chain is not hurting you right?” He asks all of sudden.

Percy frowns, “No but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Then let me see your hand first. Well have to figure the chain thing out so better make sure your hand is okay because I don’t know how long it’s going to take and this floor is filthy. I don’t want you getting an infection.

He doesn’t know what to say. The idea is so thoughtful, so sweet he tears up a little. "Oh, okay.”

The Prince gently takes his injured palm and inspects the deep gash running through it.

“You’re probably going to need stitches but the best we can do for now is wrap it in some cloth until we get out of here.”

The blonde starts to move to where the discarded shirt lay but Percy stops him.

“Wait.”

They turn to each other, something deep burning in their eyes, an inferno of emotions. Thoughts. _Feelings_.

He cups a golden cheek with his uninjured hand, and swipes the lingering tears gently. “Thank you,” He whispers.

Those lightning eyes flash, heat flaring under golden skin. “I think we should talk when we get out of here.” He grabs Percy’s hands, kisses the knuckles gently.

“This sounds like a divorce?”

The blonde snorts, “Not quite yet.”

And then the blonde grabs the shirt from the other side, the bloodstain still bright and rips a strip off.

“Guess I won’t be getting that back,” He laughs.

“Sorry,” Jason shrugs, “Now let’s see that cut.”

And when Percy unfurls his fingers he nearly faints. Because there is nothing on his hand. No gash, or blood, not even a scar.

“What the fuck?” He mutters.

His husband looks pale.

“What is going on? Are we hallucinating?”

A door clicks open and ten figures walk in. Shadows cling to them like sweat and the dismal light in the room makes it hard to see their features. _But both Princes notice the rose pin on each of their breast pockets._ Glinting gold and bronze.

“So you haven’t figured it out yet?” A clear, resonating voice says

“Figured what out?” He hesitates. This is a trap.

“Who you are, what you are capable of.”

He wishes she would step into the light so he could see her.

“What the fuck do you want from us?” The Prince spits.

“The world Little Prince.” They could hear the smile in her voice and it sounded lethal.

“Let us go. There is nothing we can give you here. And I don’t have authorization to hand currency to anyone. You’ll have to take it up with my father.” His voice is hard as he moves closer to Percy.

“I’m of no use either.”

“They really do not know,” She giggles and the nine other people with her, still as robots only moments before, burst out laughing.

“What don’t we know?” He spits.

“There’s no need to worry right now Little Prince.” She grins, and her teeth flash white.

“Reyna,” She says, “Pin them.”

A women steps towards them and they can finally see one person clearly. Her skin is the colour of copper and her hair the colour of mahogany, but it’s her eyes that make her dangerous. They are bright with violence. Her smile is gleeful.

“Hello Princes.”

They feel a small prick in their necks and the world goes fuzzy.

“At last,” The first voice sighs, “We have captured them. _The healer and the destroyer_.”

Jason grabs his hand and interlaces their fingers. Squeezing once.

“Who are you?” Percy rasps.

He can see her smile as he falls to the floor, eyes already losing the fight to stay open.

“Annabeth Chase.”

The world disappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts, beautiful human!


	10. The Hollowed Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edit: lmao a kind darling pointed out to me that i never told anyone the meanings for the roses on here and i just gotta say im sorry for my dumbassery. Here it is:  
> one for sorrow  
> two for joy  
> three for a girl  
> four for a boy  
> five for silver  
> six for gold  
> seven for a secret never to be told  
> eight for a wish  
> nine for a kiss  
> ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss  
> eleven for health  
> twelve for wealth  
> thirteen beware its the devil themself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: kidnapping, torture, blood, graphic depictions of violence

_run little prince_

_away you go_

_into the hollow_

_down below_

_run little prince_

_how loud you scream_

_no little prince_

_this is not a dream_

Prince Percy Jackson screams and the sound sinks into the concrete walls like fists of death. Another one of his fingers falls to the floor. A pinprick injection gets added to the ever growing dots lining his neck. The finger grows back.

“Stop fucking touching him!” Prince Jason cries, voice hoarse from yelling. He writhes against the rope wrapped around his body and someone yanks one end. His mouth falls open. His face goes purple. His throat bleeds. The rope gets tighter.

Percy wants to sob for his husband’s release, wants to beg and plead and offer them anything. But those aquamarine eyes land on him and he knows they will endure everything without revelation.

“Just tell us what we need to know Prince.”

He spits at their feet. The girl working her knife into his burning side releases a string of filth and shoves her fingers into his mouth. He attempts to bite down, to rip off her appendages and save them as trophies. But she pulls at his tongue and in one smooth swoop of her dagger, slices it off.

His mouth instantly fills with blood and he hurls the empty contents of his stomach up. The Golden Prince screams for him, tears streaking like paths of justice down his cheeks. He feels another pin pick on the thrumming vein in his neck. His tongue begins to grow.

“Give it to us Your _Highness_.” The girl with curls of spun gold hisses.

He doesn’t say anything. He can’t. His tongue is taking unusually long. He wonders briefly if he’ll never be able to talk again. And then wonders if his husband could learn to love him despite it.

There’s a dull crack, liking snapping branches, bones. It takes him a moment to register the sting in his cheek.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” The Prince of Caelum is shaking with rage.

“We need one small key. And then we can let you go.” Reyna, as they had come to know her, smiles.

“Liars,” His tongue is heavy in his mouth but he gutters the word out, “Filthy liars.”

Annabeth’s grey eyes gleam with hate. He wonders how a princess could harbour this much rage. He wonders if he could.

“You’re right.” She shrugs, “We’ll kill you. But the world has no use for monarchies anyway.”

“Are you not the Crown Princess of one yourself?” He grins and his teeth stain red.

“I left that disgusting place. The people deserve freedom. And they will never get that under the monarch regime.”

“My people are happy. And prospering.” He says and his voice is nothing but rough sand and rocky oceans.

“Lies! More and more your people are dying. Being taken by the earth and you and your mother do _nothing_.” She growls, anger shaking her hands.

“Something needs to feed the earth Princess of _Hekima_. Otherwise it will not allow us to live on it.”

She drives a dagger into his leg. Pins him to the chair he is bound to. “You disgust me.”

“Why don’t _you_?” A quiet voice speaks from behind him.

He smiles into the darkness and there is nothing of life in it. He knows what she asks but he says anyway, “Why don’t I what?”

“Why don’t you feed yourself to the earth if it needs to be fed so bad?”

_run little prince_

_away you go_

_into the hollow_

_down below_

_run little prince_

_how loud you scream_

_no little prince_

_this is not a dream_

“Let me tell you a story.” He laughs. He looks briefly to his husband who’s blue eyes glow. The Crown Prince blinks once. Percy turns to the crowd of women hovering over him and begins.

_Once upon a time many many lifetimes ago their lived an old woman in a cottage by the sea. She had hair the colour of liquid starlight and skin the colour of night and she smiled bright enough to light the village she resided in. Every morning she would cook a pot of gumbo, as big as her stove, bigger still than her. She had been making her gumbo for more lifetimes than a person had fingers to count but each day it seemed to get better and better. For each night she would open her doors to the villagers and hand out bowls of steaming, spicy gumbo. And the villagers loved her for it. Loved her enough to do anything for her. Loved her enough to do anything at all._

He smiled up at them. Beamed like sin.

_**And sometimes the villagers had to give her a rose or eleven.** Even if they got scratched on thorns. For the roses meant food. And food meant health. So she gave them gumbo and they gave her blood._

“What the fuck kind of story is this?” Reyna growls.

He doesn’t say anything. Just glances towards her. Her brown eyes are bright with anger, irritation. His gaze pins to the far wall where his husband had been abandoned in favour of his story. The Crown Prince has a blanket of rope but swift, free hands. He continues his tale.

_The old woman gave her village food. And gave and gave and gave. And she asked for a child and a mother dressed their son in the finest silk and sent him off. The gumbo was extra filling that night. And she asked for a bone and the howl of a dog went quiet as death. And she asked for love and they gave her their all._

The women that surround him are looking on like horror has finally been given meaning. Like torture is not enough to stop him. Like they should have slaughtered him.

“So tell me,” He grins. Jason stands up slowly. Quietly. Predatory. “If the old woman had died who would feed the village?”

“She is drugging them.” The soft voice from before comes to stand in his line of vision. “And you are making her the hero.”

“She is the hero of their story.” He says, “What is so wrong about that?”

“She is manipulating them.” The stranger spits.

“Who are you?” He tilts his head curiously. He knows her. He’s sure of this.

“Bianca. Ex-Princess of Xoia.”

“You have a twin sister do you not?” He looks around.

Her black eyes flash, “Older sister. And she is not here.”

“Didn’t want to join the resistance?”

She smiles and the darkness inside him dances. “Someone must do work from the inside.”

Crown Prince Jason Grace flings four syringes into them and before anyone can react he is swinging a chair over their heads. Percy laughs. He is slicing his palms with a ratty nail and smearing his blood across the chains at his wrist. With a snap they fall off and crumble to the floor. He is moving in an instant swiping a leg under the closest warrior’s feet. She falls to the floor and he turns around. Someone slams a fragment of concrete into his skull. He bellows. Yanks it out. Flings it back. A girl goes down. And she does not rise again.

But there are too many of them. And the surprise attack has faded into lethal anger. They no longer care if the Princes live. It is capture or death. Percy is sluggish. The multitude of drugs in his injured system weighing him down. The blood loss from his palm, neck, ribs exacerbating the problem.

They need to leave. They need to get out of here.

_run little prince_

_away you go_

_into the hollow_

_down below_

_run little prince_

_how loud you scream_

_no little prince_

_this is not a dream_

Reyna stalks towards him, a predators glint in her eyes, a gleaming dagger twirling around her fingers. An idea hits him. So he goads her on. Wagging fingers and dangerous smirks.

“I will kill you.”

He beams. She yells and then her dagger is flying towards him. He sidesteps it once. _Closer_. She growls in frustration and prowls forward. He sidesteps again. _Closer_. She stands in front of him, her hand raised, knife bright.

He gives her the smirk that bleeds arrogance. “I dare you.”

She slices her dagger across his chest. “Bye bye little Prince.”

He smiles pearly white, wraps his fingers around his husband’s arm and presses his body into the concrete.

“What are you doing?” Jason gasps, trying to fend off a quick footed Bianca.

“Say goodbye,” He replies.

The concrete wall turns to dust. And they fly through the night and into the forest beyond.

_If either bothered to turn back they would have seen the twelve roses crushed in the rubble._

_run little prince_

_away you go_

_into the hollow_

_down below_

_run little prince_

_how loud you scream_

_no little prince_

_this is not a dream_

They run and run and run until they can feel pain in every nerve of their lungs. Can feel the muscles of their legs snap against the bone. The dried leaves crunch under their bare feet, and twigs snap loudly. But the forest is far from quiet. If you listen closely you can hear the trees gossip to the wind. Hear the roots slither towards them and away when they realize what these princes are. Can hear the beat of a birds wings as it gathers its babies and takes them to safety. Much too dangerous when there are creatures of the night roaming the lands. Percy slows to a crawling pace, knowing they must keep moving but unable to bring himself to hurry. His body is broken.

They are silent. Barely daring to breathe incase someone finds them. His ribs push themselves back into place. His skin stitches itself together. And the gaping hole in his chest closes without a scar.

Eventually the silence becomes too much.

“What are we?” He whispers into the dark.

Jason responds, “Not human.”

“Did you know?” He turns to the blonde, green eyes searching for…something.

“No.” The Prince purses his lips, “I— I didn’t even suspect.”

“You think our parents knew?” He looks to the moon, stumbles over a curious root.

His husband snorts, “If my father knew I would have been locked up in a lab somewhere with rats and machines as my only friends.”

He wants to laugh but for some reason the sound gets stuck in his throat, pushing unpleasantly at his vocal cords. “I think my mother knew.”

“Why did she never tell you?”

“Maybe she did. Maybe she would have.” He frowns. He’s not sure he believes himself.

“What are we going to do?”

“Eat firstly.” He knows that’s not what the prince means but he can’t think right now. He needs to lie down. To sleep off the filth and horror he feels to his core.

“Do you think it’s safe to sleep here?” He motions at the looming trees and swaying flowers.

“I don’t think we have a choice.” The blonde winces, “The forest doesn’t look like it ends anytime soon.”

“I can’t go on.” He breathes, suddenly feeling weak. His legs shake, his stomach churns.

Before he can give a warning he’s collapsing to the cool earthy floor and heaving his guts out.

“Percy!” His husband falls to his knees next to him, rubbing his back.

“I’m fine,” He gasps. He hurls again. “I just feel a little sick.”

“Gods I can’t believe they did this to you.”

He heaves once more and then falls backwards, skin scraping against the tree as he leans into it. “They did much worse to you.”

Those blue eyes shutter and he knows they’re both thinking about the horrific acts performed on the Prince of Caelum. A dismembered body they were subject to see stitch itself back together as pipes ran from the Prince’s eyes into his chest and around his torso.

“They made you heal yourself on your own tears. They made me destroy you first.”

“Please,” His husband chokes, “Can we not talk about it.”

So they sit in the pool of moonlight, leaning against the tree and go quiet as the birds flown faraway. Ever so slowly they drift into sleep and are greeted with an abundance of nightmares and terrors. The night continues. The mischievous roots wrap around them gently. Holding them. Tucking them in. Squeezing them.

_The bush of roses to their right rustles in the breeze and thirteen flowers fall to the floor._

The roots tap the tree trunk. The Princes wake up. The tree swallows them whole.

There is the smell of burning wood and fresh rain. And there is darkness like no other. It is almost alive, breathing, watching. It clings to them as if it were clothing. Or sweat. Percy doesn’t have the energy to scream.

They fall, and fall, and land with a soft thud on something cold. The smell of earth and must is strong. It invades their senses, and overwhelms their inhibitions.

He wonders if they’re getting drugged again. But then he hears someone emerge from the blackness. A little flame dances towards them. The person, _creature-_ with its scraping claws and ever-growing form- moves closer. The candle is brought to their faces, by a dark, rich brown hand.

“So you have finally found your way home.”

Crown Prince Percy Jackson knows that voice, and gasps softly.

Grover Underwood steps into the light.

_run little prince_

_away you go_

_into the hollow_

_down below_

_run little prince_

_how loud you scream_

_no little prince_

_this is not a dream_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts, beautiful human!


	11. The Water That Speaks

Prince Percy Jackson groans as his eyes blink open and he is met with eternal darkness. Like he lives inside a shadow, like inky blackness, like the night itself. And he knows instinctively that he is safe. A ray of light peaks in through what looks to be a small hole above him. He squints slowly it gets bigger, allowing more light to flood the space. He squeezes out the bright spots in his vision and takes the opportunity to survey the room. Dark wood surrounds him from every side and leaves coat the floor like a carpet. He looks up to check for a ceiling and is met with endless space and never ending wood walls.

Is he? In a tree?

Someone slowly descends from the flood of light and he can’t help but think of angels, and hummingbirds on a crisp winter morning, and freedom. His friend and advisor lands softly on the leafy floor and smiles at him with all the joy in the world.

“Good day my Prince.”

“I feel Grover-” He looks to the man, no not man, _being_. For protruding from the dark afro atop his head are two small horns, and behind his back are the most gorgeous evergreen leathery wings. “I feel that you are royalty in these parts and we are merely guests at an arrogant’s most and servants at its least.”

His friend’s deep laugh echoes around the chamber and Percy wants to bottle up the sound to carry with him for eternity.

“I am the King of _Canbaha_ , the realm you currently reside in.”

“Canbaha,” He frowns recognizing that word, “Evergreen, Somalian.”

Grover nods, eyes soft with pride. Something dawns on him.

“All those stories,” His green eyes go wide, “About the land of creatures. They’re all about here?”

His friend grins, “About my kingdom.”

“And you guys speak Somali?”

“No, that is just the name we give the world. Our language is not made for human tongues.”

He glances around the space again, noticing the bark texture of the walls, and the scurrying of little creatures over every surface. A net hangs above his bed and he wonders if it’s to protect him or them.

Grover sees him staring, “For the _fidmad_ , the—” He clicks his fingers, translation escaping him.

“The mover?” Percy tries to recall the little Somali he had been taught.

“Yes,” The King’s eyes light up, “They can go everywhere but they are small and can be easily squashed so we protect them by putting nets up for them to cross over.”

A moth lands on the white netting near his head and he observes its movement before it flurries off.

He has so many questions and no idea where to start. He wants to know how Grover is King of this world and advisor in his? Wants to know why? He wants to know if every citizen of this land lives within this endless tree or is it a whole kingdom beyond these barked walls? Are there more who look like him or is he one amongst creatures of earthly land only? How many does he rule? Where exactly in the world are they?

“I’m sure you want to know about your husband.” Grover is saying, as he motions for someone.

Shame floods through Percy like hot water, and sticky guilt. He hadn’t even thought about Prince Jason. Hadn’t wondered whether he was okay or even alive.

He clears his throat, “Uh sure I guess.”

His friend smiles and turns to what Percy can only describe as a pixie. Slightly pointed ears, and faintly bluish skin, sharp black eyes sparkling with what may be reserved mischief, and the most striking feature, their height. Which was maybe the size of his forearm if he was being generous.

“Hello Maizel.” and it is King Grover who speaks.

“King,” The pixie bows low, “What can I do for you?”

“Please escort our guest to the rivers and then see that he arrives where he needs to be.”

“As you wish King.” They nod, and then hold out a small hand.

With a smile from Grover and a surprised moment he places his pinkie in their hand and allows them to drag him out of bed.

Or what he finally discovers is a hammock made from some sort of silk. He’s ninety percent sure it’s spider-silk and he doesn’t let himself think about it anymore.

The pixie has surprising strength for someone their size and they sort of remind him of ants, who can carry a hundred times their weight.

“So,” Maizel starts, their voice pitched pleasantly, “The King tells us you’re friends. How do you know him?”

“He’s my advisor.”

They scoffs and he understands them completely. “Our King is _no-one’s_ advisor.”

“He has been my friend since the days before I can remember and four years ago when I was announced official crown prince he stepped in to that role.”

They aren’t having it, black eyes looking at him like he’s mad. “You’re insane. And I don’t trust you one bit.”

Before he can reply they’re shoving him into a room and closing the curtain of flowers behind him. His breath flies from his lungs, intent on exploring this new haven. For laying out in front of his unbelieving eyes is the most beautiful place he’s ever laid his eyes on. If he had ever thought he knew paradise in his short years of life he was wrong. For this, gods this was beyond anything he could ever hope to see.

A waterfall the colour of rainbows cascades down pure white rock. And the sky above them is every shade in a paint palette, like someone personally brushed across that massive canvas each morning. A pool of water, or what he assumed to be water, covered the entire bottom, the only land being the platform they current stood on. The water glittered, gleamed like a thousand diamonds had been liquified. It’s colour was some mix of purple and blue, like a fading bruise.

“This is—” He didn’t know what to say. Nothing he could say would do the place justice.

“Hop in and cleanse, we have what you humans call mer-persons if you would like help.” Maizel shrugs.

“Help?” He frowns, “With what?”

“To wash of course. And anything else you might need. You’ll find a few more than willing to help you. And I’ll castrate you if you find ones who aren’t.” A knife gleamed in their hand, pulled out from nowhere.

“I’m okay thank you. I think I’ll manage to wash on my own.”

“Suit yourself. If you’re a strong enough swimmer you can follow the current down to the river and let the rush massage your muscles.”

“How far out does the river go?”

“Across the ways,” They say nonchalantly, waving a hand to the left of them.

He doesn’t bother to ask how far that is, instead nodding and stripping off the linen cloth he had been draped in.

“Thank you Maizel,” He smiles at them, “How will I know where to go when I’m done?”

“I will meet you back here when the wind calls.” And then they’re gone, in a flurry of falling petals and baked goods.

He steps over the little tarts and pink flowers now scattering the white rock and takes a deep breath as he stares over the edge. He wonders if the water is cold. There’s only one way to find out. He dives into the abyss. And hits water the temperature of summer air and brooks.

He opens his eyes to see life like nothing before teeming around him. There are fish and creatures and people? Or what looks to be people anyway. It is an entire kingdom on its own. Nobody pays him any mind as he swims around, trying to reserve as much of his oxygen as possible. A small part of him is afraid once he goes up he will never get to see this again. So he takes it all in, the neon colours glowing on the plants that live there, and the life that swims around. It almost looks like underwater four-way crossings. With lines of fish and friends stopping all over the place as others moved around, over, and under.

Finally he can no longer hold his breath and kicks up to the surface. With a gasp he breaks through the water and if you had asked any witness they would have told you the world fell in love with Prince Perseus Jackson just then. For his black hair whips to the side, and his green eyes are as bright as their emerald palace. And the water droplets that race down his gorgeous brown skin make him glisten.

“Hello,” A soft, sultry voice coos.

“Uh hi,” He smiles turning to face them. And gods he is struck stupid by their beauty. Bright blonde hair, almost platinum in the glow of the space. And eyes greyer than storm clouds, than the stone of his husband’s castle.

She looks so familiar but he can’t place her for his life. His memory is hazy, like cotton gauze had been shoved into the gaps, and soaked up anything that may have leaked.

“I’m Annabeth,” She smiles, and it is perfect even with the razor sharp teeth.

He loves her immediately. But only in the way you love something that you can never have. In the way you love something with your feelings, not your heart. He loves her until he looks away. And then he loves her no more.

“You need help cleansing?” She raises a perfect brow, and the tiny freckles above it scrunched ever so slightly.

“I’m alright thank you.” He gives a small nod, kindness flooding his eyes.

“Are you sure?” She scrapes a nail across his corded arm.

He swallows hard and nods again. “I’ll uh let you know if I’m struggling.”

“Okay Prince Perseus,” She grins and it is feral in its loveliness. “I’ll be on that rock over there if you need anything.”

She dives back into the water and her tail, every shade of fire, flashes before disappearing.

He almost wants to call her back just to find out more about this place but he has things to do and his questions can be saved for later.

So he quickly scrubs at his body, making sure to rid himself of the sleep that had been weighing on his bones these last hours. He feels clean by the time he takes a leisurely swim back to the platform. He stops just underneath it and puzzles over how he’s to get back up there.

“Annabeth,” He calls softly, after staring at the rock for an unhelpful amount of time.

There’s a ripple in the water and the lovely blonde breaks the surface. Her grey eyes flash bright and that sense of knowing washes over him again. But before he can grip at the memory it’s gone.

“How do I get up there?”

She beams, her razor teeth on full display, “Why you ask the water of course.”

He blinks at her, unsure if he heard correctly. “The what?”

“Like this silly,” She giggles and then looks down at the water. “Please take me to the platform.”

He gives her an incredulous look but is fast proven wrong. The water wraps around her waist gently and lifts her towards the bleached rock. Ever so softly it sets her down and then falls back with a splash. She waves from above him and sets off a series of little splashes as she dances her fingers in the air.

He takes a deep breath, awe and confusion weaving in his expression, and repeats her words.

At first nothing happens and he is equal parts embarrassed and disappointed. But then he feels a cool grip on his skin and before he knows what’s happening he’s lifted high above the pool and dangling in the air.

He gasps and laughs and tries to grip the water so it doesn’t let him go. His hands go through and it just makes him burst with joy all the more.

“Please take me to Annabeth.” He whispers softly.

The water gives a little shove before depositing him onto the platform. He waves goodbye, thanks it endlessly and when it splashes back to join its friends he is sad to see it go.

“Had fun Prince?” The blonde beauty asks coyly.

“It was magnificent.” He breathes, uncaring of his naked form or her seductive eyes.

“Who is meeting you here?”

“Maizel.”

“Little wretch.” She curses, a dark look crossing her face. “Well nevermind. Why don’t you tell me your adventures over the last few days. I do love a story.”

He grins, bright and childish, “Well I got married.”

“Oh and who is the lucky tie?” She rests her chin on her hands and looks up at him adoringly.

“Not so sure either of us were lucky. It was an arranged marriage.” He grimaces, “But we were at his castle for a tragedy had struck and his people needed him. Grover had come to visit, oh it was wonderful. And then I woke up here.” He frowns, feeling like something was surely missing but for the life of him he can’t remember what.

“And who is your husband?”

“Oh it’s Crown Prince Jason Grace. I distinctly remember coming with him.”

She tilts her head to the side, analyzing him with her fierce eyes. “You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?” He scrunched his nose in confusion.

“Prince Jason isn’t here.” Her blonde hair shifts and as the light catches it the strands blaze gold. Something in him tugs softly. “Well he was here but he’s not anymore.”

“Where is he?”

A milky white knife flashes in front of him and then he’s plunging to the pool floor. On the way down he remembers where he knows Annabeth from. _Princess of Hekima_. And the rebel leader taking down the monarchy. His head hits the obsidian rocks and pain blooms like flowers of fire. The rays of moon catch on his ocean eyes and they glow as neon as seaweed.

“Where is my husband?” He asks the water.

It giggles at him and whispers back. “Well he’s dead, of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts, beautiful human!


	12. The Names We Mean

_**The water always lies.** _

_“Grover,” Prince Percy Jackson squealed excitedly, “Grover, Grover, Grover!”_

_The boy, barely as tall as the countertop, smiled at his friend with sparkling eyes, “Yes Prince?”_

_“Will you tell me a story?”_

_“What about Prince?”_

_“About the magic world.” He said in a conspiratorial whisper._

_“How about why the rocks in the river are black?”_

_Little Percy scrunched his nose, already uninterested in anything about rocks but his friend interrupted before he could protest, “You will like this story I promise.” The little boy winked._

_His sea green eyes lit up like water droplets in the sun. “Tell me!”_

_So they sat down cross-legged in the grass, the shade of a willow tree protecting them, and looked at each other as if there was no-one else in the world._

_“Once upon a time, long long ago…” Grover started._ _“There lived two kingdoms, at peace and thriving. One was the Kingdom of Sun or as it was known then the Kingdom of **ilanga**. The buildings were white, their streets were cobbled grey and the people were beautiful beyond words. They looked like me. Dark skin, and coiled hair. With noses that could smell from miles away, and ears that could hear the softest whispers, and mouths that spoke the kindest words.”_

_“What about their eyes Grover?” Little Percy bounced, energy pulsating from him._

_“Oh Prince their eyes were the most beautiful of all. For they were every shade of earth. They were the brown of the sand, and the green of the trees, and the yellow of the sun. Gorgeous worldly shades. The people loved living in their kingdom with its endless summer and it’s long days. There was hardly anytime to experience the night for it blinked in and out faster than they could catch it. The streets were always filled with brightness, parades and markets and celebration. Ribbons wrapped around every pole and doors were the colour of rainbows.” Life twinkled bright in Grover’s eyes, and Percy felt so proud just then to have such a lovely friend_

_“On the opposite side,” He continued, “Joined only by a small brook was the Kingdom of **Alina**. The night. They were always in darkness, stars twinkling like diamonds above them and the moon always full. Their buildings were made from black rock with tiny flecks of starlight in them so that when it caught the light of the moon it seemed to sparkle. Make no mistake they were not covered in inky blackness all the time. For their streets were lined with precious stones. Emeralds encrusted on their poles. And sapphires for their roofs. Aquamarine where the water met the land. And rubies for the pavements. The Kingdom was rich with jewels. But the people did not consider themselves wealthy for it. No, the stones were as much a part of the city as they were. And oh how the people looked. They were as pale as the moon and with hair as bright as their stars. Curiously they shared much of the same features as their friends across the way. Nose, and mouth, and listening ears. But their eyes,” Grover stopped to take in a deep breath_

_“ Their eyes were the colours of their precious gems. Zircon and amethyst and opal and every shade possible. There was no real day except for one or two hours in the early morning when they sky morphed into the palest of blues. It was at that time everyday when the two kingdoms met, the light of **ilanga** and the dark of **Alina.** Though they never interacted beyond their shared brook they loved each other intently. Loved each other the only way you can love something that is at peace. Gently and without disturbance. They loved each other alone.”_

_**The water always lies.** _

_“Wow,” Little Percy blinked, awe radiating from him. “The kingdoms sound wonderful.”_

_“Yes but now we must get to why I’m telling you this story. The people and the land lived peacefully side by side, though not interacting but always knowing, understanding. It was not that they weren’t allowed to see one another it was that they couldn’t. For they were not made for each others cities. They could not withstand the atmosphere. But-” He placed great emphasis on the word “One day two babies were born at the exact same time on the exact same day. One to the Kingdom of **Alina** and one to the Kingdom of **ilanga**.”_

_Little Percy gasped, small hands covering his mouth in shock._

_Grover gave a look, “The baby of **Alina** looked exactly like a child of **ilanga** and the baby of **ilanga** looked exactly like a child of **Alina**. The people were confused and it is the nature of living things to be wary when they are disoriented. So when someone suggested kidnapping there was nothing to be done as the worlds folded in on themselves and the kingdoms declared war. Peace was not an option when children were the cause. Peace was not in their heart when these children were not theirs. So they discarded the two bundles of beating hearts and destroyed each other. But if they had just looked, had just taken the time they would have seen what was right in front of them. For the baby of **ilanga** that was born in **Alina** , although had dark skin and black hair had eyes like emeralds. And the child of **Alina** , born in **ilanga** , although had skin as pale as starlight and hair as white as moonlight, had eyes the colour of an ilangan sky, a common earthly occurnce in the kingdom. But the people saw none of that and so the children were abandoned and the peace was lost and lands were bloodied. For 25 years. By the tenth year the citizens no longer knew the reason they fought. By the fifteenth year they had lost more than they gained. By the twentieth year their only hope of survival was each other. But nothing changed. The fought, and destroyed, and killed with all the vengeance of the first sword strike._

_Grover takes a deep breath, “T_ _he first day of the twenty-fifth year two beings, long since grown from the discarded children they had been, stepped onto the battlefield, hand in hand. They stood in that brook, once clear enough to see white stone and flecks of gemstone, now red with blood. Stood in that brook and looked on at the battle still raging around them. They did not say anything, did not **do** anything but stand. Slowly people stopped to watch them. For they looked as foreign, and strange among the crowd as they once did._

_The one with green eyes looked to them and said, "We are the children you fight this war over. We are the ones you shed blood for. We are the ones you have killed for. But today that ends. Today we join as one peoples and stop this madness.”_

_**The water always lies.** _

_“For remember I told you Prince,” Grover looked at him, “That they had killed too many to live separately. Their only hope of survival was to join forces. But the people did not want that. They had been fighting this war for twenty five years and many had not know any other way. Another thing you must know about the nature of living things is that it does not like change. So they refused and they fought more and they continued as if those two beings did not stand before them offering peace. The beings, seeing nothing was going to change did the only thing they could do. The one with emerald eyes slammed their fist into the earth and destroyed the field. And the one with cerulean eyes took that cracked earth and flung it into the air. When it was all over there was no-one left standing, not even them. No, in their place stood a river, with obsidian rocks and water that glistened rainbows. White stone surrounded it on either side. It was the perfect product of both kingdoms.”_

_“So that’s why the rocks are black.” Little Percy nodded knowingly._

_“Yes and the legend is,” His voice lowers, barely a breath, “When the healer and the destroyer finally meet again the obsidian will give away to diamond, the river will once more run clear, and the people will finally be at peace once more.”_

_“I love that story Grover!” He squealed, falling back into the grass with joy._

_“I’m glad you do Prince. It is very close to my heart.”_

_**The water always lies.** _

Percy Jackson gasps, and inhales mouthfuls of water. The memory fades, disintegrates from his mind. He grapples for it but it’s gone. He is still underwater, although how much time had passed he doesn’t know.

His body is bare and his skin is icy but for some reason he can breathe. So he does. Big lungfuls of air. He doesn’t have time to think about the Princess of Hekima’s attempt at murder, he needs to find his husband. Dead or alive he needs to find Jason.

He let’s the current drag him out while some semblance of a plan takes form in his head. He doesn’t know who he can trust right now. And he doesn’t enjoy being made fool twice. But suddenly something is pulling him up, up, and out of the water. He comes up with a gasp, the world blinding. He is dropped on sun-warmed rock and he blinks himself back into existence.

_The water always lies._

Standing over him is Grover.

“What the fuck.” He mutters, staring up at his……. friend?

“Why were you in the river? You were drowning.”

“I wasn’t,” He frowns, trying to get his brain started, get his priorities straight. “Where is Jason?”

“Why were you in there?” It is the voice of a King that talks to him.

Percy ignores the question. “Where is my husband?”

“Why were you in the river Prince?” Grover has never gotten angry, but there is a waver in his voice that makes the Prince hesitate. He looks up, into those dark eyes and there is worry and concern, and something wholly unnatural reflecting in them.

“The Princess of _Hekima_ , Annabeth Chase, pushed me in.”

Something flashes across the King’s expression but he doesn’t quite catch it. “I will take you to the Prince.”

And then Grover is walking away, through the waterfall and out of sight. Percy doesn’t have time to question the uneasy look, or the events that have occurred because the King is already out of sight and he can’t lose him in this maze. He doesn’t even know it they’re still in the tree he woke up in. Gods it seems like days and weeks ago, but it was really only this morning.

“Grover?” He calls, moving through the waterfall and into a cave.

He sees his advisor’s silhouette and races to catch up.

“Is your entire Kingdom inside a tree?” He asks, finally reaching him.

It is not Grover who walks beside him. It is a creature as vile and deathly as rotting flesh. It is a creature made of horrors. It is nightmares themselves.

“Gro—Grover—” He mutters, slowly stepping back.

The creature just looks on, eyes ever changing but hollow all the same.

“King!” His voice is full of alarm but he tries to be quiet. He doesn’t know what sets this creature off and being the cause of his own demise doesn’t sound particularly worthy.

“Grover please.”

“Will you make your wish Crown Prince Perseus Jackson?” It hisses abruptly.

“What— what wish?” He’s caught so off guard some of his fear slips away.

“You have a wish Prince of _Mare_ , I hear it in your heart.”

“I—” He doesn’t know what to say, do, be. He wants to run. But those long spindly legs look devastatingly fast and he knows he doesn’t stand a chance. “I don’t have a wish.”

It chuckles, throaty and unpleasant. The sounds scrapes in his ears. “Oh but you do little prince. Tell me your wish and you can go.”

_The water always lies._

He takes a deep breath. And another. And another. It was easier underwater. “I wish to see my husband.”

The creature laughs, and laughs, and laughs, and the sound dissolves into the cave, echoes like broken shards.

“Are you sure Prince?”

“Who are you?”

“I am the _partidari_.” It gives some twisted form of a smile. “And your wish is my command.”

Before he can protest, stop it, end this, the creature becomes dust and then disappears altogether and in its place is the unmoving body of Prince Jason Grace.

Something cracks in his chest as he dives for his husband, and when his arms go through him he breaks altogether.

“Where are you?” He sobs.

Thousands of meters below, at the bottom of the river, nestled like a sleeping God between charcoal black rocks, is Prince Jason Grace. Unmoving, unconscious, and alive.

Prince Percy Jackson curls into a ball and cries for the life he no longer recognizes, the friends he no longer has, and the husband he had once hated so vehemently it became something else, something different, _more_.

And down below in that river of rainbows, obsidian rock gives away to diamond.

_the destroyer cries._

_the healer dies._

_and the water **never** lies._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts, beautiful human!


	13. The Daughters of Dashuri

_we are the promised ones_

_the children of lands lived and forgotten_

_our souls are colours only we can see_

_you and me._

_connected infinitely._

Everything feels so faraway, like a dark room devoid if sound. He feels unreachable. The rock underneath him digs into his spine unforgivingly but he doesn’t bother to get up. He cant get up. His husband is dead. His kingdom is faraway. And his friend is not who he says he is. For some reason, it’s his husband, the one he couldn’t wait to get away from mere weeks ago, that strikes him the hardest. Prince Percy takes a deep shaky breath and chokes down the onslaught of tears that threatens to cripple him once more. Every intake feels like daggers in his lungs and it is effort, unmanageable effort to keep going, to keep being. His mind is broken fragments of memory ripping into him. He gives an anguished cry as one of those memories takes over.

_“Percy!” A little girl squealed, laughing as she attempted to get away from him._

_“You deserve this.” He said solemnly wiggling his fingers in warning for the tickle assault._

_“I didn’t know you wanted the last pastry.” She squealed again, little feet sinking into the lush green grass as she ran away._

_“You know the jam hearts are my favourite. And your mom says I could have all of them as long as I kept the custard hollows for you.” He pouted still advancing menacingly. Well as menacingly as a ten year old with pastry bits and red jelly stuck to his cheeks can look._

_“I’m sorry,” She giggled, climbing up their favourite tree and scrambling into one of the little houses._

_“You don’t sound sorry.” He grumbled going in after her._

_“I really am.”_

_“You really aren’t. I know you aren’t because you’re still smiling and my raspberry jam is in your teeth.”_

_“Maybe it’s blood.” She shot back, looking down at him with a wide grin._

_“You only have that on Mania and,” He counted the days of the week with a frown, “That’s two days from now.”_

_“Fine you got me but I’ll make it up to you?” She smiled ever so sweetly and his little heart suddenly felt as light as butterflies._

_“How?”_

_“I’ll tell you the story mom told me about soulmates.”_

_Little Percy loved stories. Loved them so much he could make them his currency. Loved them enough to be enticed by anything._

_He settled his green eyes on her, in a moment of grave seriousness. “Fine. But we can’t do it in the House of Souls.” He motioned to the tree house filled with bottled sunshine and hanging leaves and soft buttery light._

_“Where do you want to go Prince?”_

_“Let’s go to the House of Warmth. I think I’d like to hear about soulmates there.”_

_With a simple nod from the princess they stepped out of their little tree house and walked across the swinging bridge, into the House of Happiness, and across the next bridge, this time made of stilts and glass. They passed through the House of Wonder and Percy couldn’t help but ran his fingers over the pretty stained glass that hung from the ceiling and tinkled in the wind. They crossed the roped bridge and he laughed as his foot got stuck in the hole. The House of Music was next and it sounded as beautiful as it always did. Soft piano, and violins, and harps, and flutes, and congas. He gave a content sigh as they walked through the structure and finally reached the bridge that took them to the House of Warmth. The bride was simple, wood stained planks that floated in the air by magic his little mind had never questioned._

_The stepped into the space and he was instantly surrounded by things that made his soul feel hugged. Pillows of every size and colour littered the floor and small tea sets sat on low tables all around the room. His favourite thing about this tree house however, was the clear roof which let him see to the sky. He loved to sleep in those house when they night was clear for he could count the constellations and remember their stories. For now it was still bright and sunny so he started at the large blue expanse and wished, not for the first time, that he could live there._

_“You want some tea?” The little Princess asked._

_“Yes please.” He sank into a deep red fusion, bigger than his body and watched the steam rise from the little pot._

_“We have mint and mango today.” She said proudly, delicately pouring it into teacups decorated with pink roses and rimmed with silver._

_“Smells,” He took a deep breath, “Delicious.”_

_Moments later they were finally settled across from each other, warm teacups clasped in their little hands and staring intently at one another._

_“You ready?” She raised an already perfect brow._

_He gave a nod, sipped some tea and focused all his attention on her._

_She beamed at him and began._

_In a town down by the shore there lived the daughters of dashuri. They were as small as flower buds but they lived in a grand house that fit them all. And everyday they would go out, on the wings of flutters and flyers and bestow wishes upon those who asked. In return they were given protection and honey. It was their favorite thing in the world. Honey from the elderflowers.“_

_"But what did they look like?” He frowned, unable to picture the little daughters in his mind._

_“Oh,” The princess gave a thoughtful look and then said, “Well mum didn’t describe them in great detail but I’ll tell you what she told me and you can fill in the gaps. The daughters of dashuri had sapling green skin, and hair as pale as moonlight. Their eyes were the colours of flower blossoms and a their teeth only sharp if they willed it so. Their ears were pointed but not sharply, juts enough do that you knew they weren’t like me and you. They were really very pretty indeed.”_

_He gave a nod as if satisfied and she continued._

_“One day, almost unexpectedly, a wish came in that made them all come together. For it was a wish that should not be allowed for their rules stated that kind of thing so. But this wish, this wish seemed to work around their rules almost perfectly, too perfectly.”_

_“What was the wish?” He gave an impatient gesture, jumping on his pillow._

_She smiled at her friend. “ **I wish I wish, on the daughter’s of dashuri, that my forever love and I have the same coloured soul so that even in death we may find each other.** Now the daughters had a strict rule about interfering in matters of the heart as it was wrong they believed to entice someone else to love and more wrong still to keep two people in love if they were not meant to be. But this was not that. This was just asking that the daughters give them the tools to help find their forever and know them even when they passed on. So they had a council meeting with their darling lady. All of them sat in the room of light, on the diamond and crystals that floated around the room. And after much negotiation, and protest, and agreement, and adoring sighs at their darling lady they finally came to the conclusion that the wish could be granted. But can be taken away if the humans abuse their power. An elite team, those most vehemently fighting for the cause, were tasked to the wish. And so they flew down over the lands and pressed a soft, invisible kiss to the forehead of every person. And when the nations opened their eyes once more everyone had a faint coloured tint over their skin, only visible to them and certain others. It was a wonder and a joy to see and they people rejoiced for all they were worth because they knew what it meant. But as the years went by and the wisher faded away the spell grew weaker. The daughters had other things to worry about and did not always remember to renew it. Now,” And the Princess’ voice got considerably lower, as if she were about to utter a forbidden secret.“ If you want to know who your forever is you are to go to the house of the daughters and offer them elder flower honey in return for the gift of knowing.”_

_“Wow,” He sighed, falling back into his pillow as he always does after a story, “That is wonderful.”_

_They were quiet for a moment, letting the soft chirping of violet sparrows wash over the space, and the warm sunshine blanket their skin._

_“Do you think,” The princess started softly, “We could visit the daughters one day Percy?”_

_He looked at her, brown eyes a delicious shade of golden apple in the light and smiled. “I think I would like that very much.”_

_we are the promised ones_

_the children of lands lived and forgotten_

_our souls are colours only we can see_

_you and me._

_connected infinitely._

The Crown Prince is pulled out of his memory abruptly and barely stops himself from heaving as the force of emotions slam into him. The memory is fading faster than he can sink his teeth into it but it doesn’t matter because his body is shaking like a leaf in a hurricane and his usually earthy skin is pale and slick with sweat. Is he dying?

Oh gods his husband is dead, and it’s probably his fault. Does it matter if he’s dying? Maybe he deserves it. The white stone continue to scratch at him and pierce into his bones and he still cannot bring himself to care, stand, move. The image of Prince Jason, eyes closed, a serene look on his face slams into his mind and he groans. “I’m sorry.” it is a prayer, salvation, it is a battle cry. But it does nothing.

“Jason.” He chokes, curling into a ball to stave off the ache ripping in his stomach. “Please.”

Over and over again, the same agonising cries. This isn’t fair. But nothing ever is.

“Prince.” He hears the whisper, and he knows its fake. There is no-one coming to save him.

“Prince.” He hears it again, more fiercely this time. And he let’s out a moan of pain.

“Prince!” The voice is right by his head now, but his eyes are closed, and it isn’t real, and no-one is coming to save him.

“Prince,” It is a voice made of nectar and satin and roses. “I need you to stand.”

“This isn’t real.” He mutters, shaking his head furiously, hugging his knees tighter to his chest.

“Prince please, we have to get out of here.”

He cracks an eye open. Maybe he isn’t dreaming. Standing over him in her beautiful, untamed glory is his Little Dove.

“Piper?” He croaks out, “What are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you before you’re put on the slaughtering block.” Her brown eyes give him a pointed glare that say ‘how could you get yourself into these situations.’

He pulls himself up with minimal wincing and latches onto her outstretched arm.

“Let’s go.” She tilts her head towards the waterfall, “I’ll explain later.”

“Okay,” He nods, clearing his eyes and making sure he has all his body parts. The fog in his mind clears slightly but there is still a weird purplely glow surrounding the princess. He’ll ask about it later.

“You ready?” She gives him a clinical once over, uncaring of his naked form.

“Yes.” His green eyes are steel and his hands are shaking and he is ready.

She grabs his hand, and they jump. Back into those treacherous waters that told him his husband’s fate and knocks him unconscious. They aren’t in the water for long. One second he can feel the icy blanket wrapping around his veins and the next he is falling through the air and landing gently on a cloud?

No the rooftop of the House of Wonder. It gently lowers him to the dark wooden floors and suddenly he is surrounded by fragments of rainbow and tiny trees and solar systems. Like whole galaxies lived under that roof of clouds.

“Here,” She throws him a white sheet of material.

He makes quick work of tying the corners across his shoulders and belting it with the twine around his waist.

_we are the promised ones_

_the children of lands lived and forgotten_

_our souls are colours only we can see_

_you and me._

_connected infinitely._

“Okay,” She is all business now, no longer the Little Dove he’d once known. But gorgeous and full of life as she had always been. “I’m gonna ask my questions and then you ask yours. One what were you doing in that kingdom? Two where is Jason and three can you see anything different about me?”

“Jason and I were kidnapped the night of the King’s Address. I don't— I’ve lost track of time since then. But we escaped and fell into that realm. I found out Grover is king which was mind blowing. Did you know?”

She doesn’t respond just looks at him, waits for him to continue.

He does. “Jason and I were separated almost as soon as we got there and I found out he’s dead. Or at least that’s what the water told me. And then a beast showed me his unmoving body. And that’s how you found me. As for anything different, well you do have have this weird glow around you. It’s like another layer of your skin. Did your mom put a protection spell over you again?”

“The King’s Address was two months ago. Nobody has been looking for you guys because your advisor told them you were safe. I found out Grover was King when I got suspicious about one month in. You hadn’t gone that long without contacting me in years, not since your dad died. I found out he’s been leading a double life since before you were born. He has been an advisor to palaces all over our nation’s for thousands of years.”

At this point Percy isn’t sure his brain is working. It feels like someone shoved electric wires into every orifice of his body and pressed full voltage.

“I found out there’s a movement to stop the monarchies.”

“Yes that’s who I was kidnapped by.”

“Well they have a secret agenda. They don’t just want to bring down the monarchies, they want to destroy the two people who can bring peace to the lands. Without them in the way they can restructure the world so that we fit as one peoples. No celebration of differences for we are all the same.”

“But our world is at peace? We do not have any catastrophic conflict?”

“They will cause it, and then be the saviours. That is the plan. King Grover is not part of that group, for they are all women, but he is supporting them for his own reasons.”

“This cannot be real?” He gives her a look that reflects the incredulity piercing his thoughts.

“There’s so much I don’t know but I’m trying to figure it all out. I don’t believe the rebel group is doing what they are for those reasons. There must be something bigger at play.” Her dark brow furrows and she looks like the strategist she was raised to be.

“Well what do they want me and Jase for?”

“Nevermind that for now. There’s no point in theorizing until we get Jason back.” Her brown skin looks luminous amongst the rainbows and he is caught so off guard that he doesn’t register what she says until minutes later.

“We’re going to get him back?” He breathes. “But he’s dead?”

“He is not.” But she doesn’t elaborate. “Now about the purple you see around me.” She sighs heavily and finally relaxes into the velvet couch they had been sharing.

“Perc, remember that story about people who could see the colour of other people’s souls and that meant they were forever loves?”

He frowns trying to dredge up the memory, “Sort of. I know the gist.”

“Well I found out it’s not just a story. I went to the daughters of dashuri and they revealed something to me.” She said this slowly as if making sure he knew exactly what she meant.

“Okay.” He nodded, ocean eyes pinned on her.

“I see colour around you too.” Crown Princess Piper McLean of _Hanaan_ takes a shuddering breath and whispers, “Percy, we’re soulmates.”

_we are the promised ones_

_the children of lands lived and forgotten_

_our souls are colours only we can see_

_you and me._

_connected infinitely._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts, beautiful human!


	14. The Family Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: kidnapping (yes AGAIN)

**together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.**

Crown Prince Jason’s dream starts as all his dreams do. Him sitting on a cloud looking over a burning meadow. He feels himself wince as if his body already knows its going to be hurt and then he is pulled under, under, under and suddenly the dream is a memory. One he had forgotten about, one he wishes he’ll live through for the rest of his life.

_“Prince,” A soft, warm voice calls. “Are you in here?”_

_There is a moment of quiet, the crackling of the fire and the turn of the page the only interruptions._

_“I’m here.” The reply is gentle, and sweet, and full of the brightest days._

_Jason blinks, looks through long blonde lashes. “Hello my Ardor”_

_Leo sinks into the couch, grabbing his hand with the need to be close and comfortable and together. “What are you doing here so late?”_

_“I had some things to research before tomorrow 's meeting with FreedomtoFeed.”_

_The Captain of the Guards raises an eyebrow and gives a pointed look to the raunchy cover of the novel he has clasped in his hands. “That looks very appropriate for a feeding-the-people initiative.”_

_He blushes crimson and shuts the book with a huff of embarrassment. “I finished the research.”_

_Leo pulls them together until their foreheads bump gently, “I’m only teasing. But you should go to sleep.”_

_“Will you join me?”_

_The fingers dancing at the nape of his neck still, and smoldering brown eyes catch his. “Of course.”_

_They release twin breathes and move impossible closer, until lips brush against skin and oxygen is sparse._

_“You are so beautiful,” The Prince whispers, kissing his jaw. His cheek. Nose. Throat._

_“Please kiss me.” Leo is shaking with anticipation, arousal._

_And who is Jason to refuse such a precious request? He brushes his lips gently across his Ardor’s and groans at the softness he finds. Pillows, and peaches, and sweetness that only intensifies when it deepens. Their tongues dance, explore each other languidly. Like time is nothing but a suggestion. His fingers brush silken warm cheeks and dance across Leo’s skin until they’re resting on his thighs._

_Jason is breathless when he breaks away, “You are—” His words are cut off as the Guard pulls their faces together._

_“No talking now my Prince. Tonight we only feel.”_

_Jason feels himself frown, as the memory becomes hazy, disjointed. This wasn’t how it happened._

_**‘Together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.”** _ _Leo gasps, his head falling on the Prince’s shoulder. “Jase, I can't—” He’s cut off by a cry._

_And suddenly all his beautiful brown skin is turning to ash under Jason’s hands. He tries to grab on to anything, any part of Leo, but the more he holds the more ash comes away._

_“Ardor?” He cries. This isn’t how it happens. This isn’t the way it goes. He can’t go like this. They can’t leave each other. He just got him back._

_He can’t, he can’t, he can’t, he c—_

Prince Jason Grace wakes up with a scream, blunt finger nails tearing into his chest as he attempts to rid himself of the nightmare. And when his eyes adjust to the world he only knows darkness and despair. The love of his life is still dead and he is still far away from his dear kingdom. Actually he has no idea where he is at all. That thought is the final pick in the ice and suddenly his body is wracking with sobs. His life is a complete fucking mess. And he doesn’t want to do this anymore. Every event piles onto his chest like boulders until he can’t breathe, until he is hyperventilating.

Far from home; Leo is dead; kidnapped; tortured; his husband is—

Wait where is his husband? The thought shocks him out of his panic so fast he’s reeling as he sits up. The cold floor underneath his fingers ground him to the present and he pushes off the concrete onto shaky legs. He feels so weird, like his body is not his own, like he’s been forcibly removed from it and shoved into a whole new one and now he has to learn how to be human all over again. He feels like he’s died. Slowly he stumbles around until he hits a wall and then plastering his right hand to it he walks. Or more like drags himself along, nails scraping against the brick and a bare shoulder scratching against the roughness.

His eyes are useless for anything further than his feet and he sees no evidence of light. But the room, or what he’s beginning to suspect is a hallway, continues so he to keeps going. Someone will fill in all the blanks in his memory but first he has to find his husband. There is a deep chasm in his chest and he has the ugly feeling it will only start filling when he sees those green eyes and floppy curls. It almost disgusts him how much he needs to see the Prince of _Mare_. It’s like his body, _his heart_ , has forgotten about Leo entirely. He feels sick to his stomach at the thought so he banishes everything but the need to get out of here. Suddenly he hits a wall, hard enough that he knows there’ll be a bruise tomorrow. With a silent prayer to gods he didn’t care to believe in, he turns his body and keeps walking. Right hand still on the wall.

There is nothing and no-one. He feels likes he’s in the inside of a black hole. There is not even the faint sounds of outside. It is just his dragging feet and his cracking nails and the ringing in his ear from the sheer lack of sound.

_He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will—_

There’s a scraping sound. Someone gives a sharp inhale. A pinprick stings his neck. _He is never getting out of here._

**together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.**

Prince Jason clutches his rolling stomach, and without warning throws up the little contents that may have been in there. Before he even opens his eyes he knows whatever he will see cannot be good. Even behind his eyelids it is unnaturally bright and he can hear hushed whispers coming from somewhere. They sound angry. He will get the brunt of it.

“Well well well,” A rapsy voice echoes around him.

He forces his eyes open and blinks back the harsh neon lighting to see Annabeth Chase, his previous kidnapper, and Grover Underwood.

“It’s such a pity you don’t remember me.” She pouts unhappily, but there is nothing but viciousness in her grey eyes.

He wonders what he should remember.

“How do you feel Jason?”

“Like I died. Like I want to get out of here. Like I need to see my husband.” He spits at the man leaning against the wall so casually.

“All in due time. But while we have you here I think we could use you.”

“Why should I help either of you?” He curls his lip, anger making his vision blur, “You,” He points a disgusted finger at the blonde girl, “Kidnapped me and Percy and then proceeded to torture us." She giggles and he wants to bury that sound six feet underground. "And you,” He looks to Grover, the advisor to _Mare_ and Percy’s friend. He looks every bit the enemy. “I don’t trust you one bit. Not if you can have her in your presence so calmly.”

“I’m not looking for your trust Prince,” The man, the _being_ , scoffs. “I just need your cooperation. Otherwise Annabeth here has permission to get as creative as possible.”

Grover tilts his head to her, a silent conversation passing between them, and then he leaves without so much as a glance to him.

“I’ll never tell you anything.” He growls at her.

She grins, pretty white teeth gleaming in the horrible light. “Let me tell you a story Prince Jason Grace, about the day you lost your sister.”

“My who?”

She gives a secret smile and begins.

_Twenty seven years ago a girl with blonde hair and grey eyes was born to The King and Queen of Mare. She was a sweet little girl with pigtails and a sharp mind and she kept her parents on their toes every second. One day this little girl’s mom came to tell her that she would soon be getting a little sibling to play with and care for. The little girl was undeniably excited, or as excited as you can be when you’re three years old and get told you’re getting a small person just like you. Needless to say a little boy with blonde hair the exact same shade as hers, and blue eyes as bright as the summer skies was born. While she had eyes the exact shade of her mother’s he had their father’s eyes. And it was dangerous, but nobody knew that then. The little girl loved him immediately and with all her heart. They spent every moment together. Growing up and learning and loving each other as if it was the only natural thing to do. But when the little girl turned eighteen she received some horrible news. Her mother had died. Her brave beautiful mother who gave her kisses and taught her chess and spent hours reading to them. Understandably the family was devasted and they took it very hard. The girl— not so little anymore, grief will do that to a person— was angry and broken and unwilling to listen to the world that had so unfairly taken from her. So she rebelled against their father and lost their mother. And in her quest to feel something she engaged in nefarious, sinful, delightful activities. It was there that she met the love of her life. The Crown Princess of Hekima. Reyna. They got married within a year and have been together ever since. But the girl found out something about her mother’s death and she was so furious as she rightfully should be that she renounced her title and vowed to bring down the very thing that killed her beloved mother._

**together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.**

“You are terrible at telling stories.”

Annabeth smiles like a lion ready to pounce. “Figured out who the little girl is?”

“You.” He heaves, chest constricting as he takes her in.

“And her little brother?”

“How come I don’t remember you?”

“When we kidnapped you we put a serum in that would make you forget certain aspects of your life.” She shrugs as if she’s discussing the weather.

“And you feel no remorse for hurting your brother?” He spits at her feet.

Her grey eyes flash like steel and she gets into his face. “I have no family.”

“Why tell me at all? Why not just let me be ignorant?”

That makes her smile- no, bare her teeth. “Because unlike me Jason Grace you would do anything for the people you love, for the people you think you owe. No matter the cost.”

“I’m not telling you anything.” His voice is hard. Like the concrete he is pressed into. Like thunder.

“Nah uh,” She grins at him, “I’m your sister remember. You wouldn’t deny your sister the information she wants.”

“Try me.”

It must be a sibling thing because a challenge enters both their eyes and it shines bright enough to dull the horrid neon lighting in the room.

“How do we kill Crown Prince Perseus Jackson?”

He blinks at her. Blinks again. And then he starts laughing. Knee slapping, stomach aching, wheezing kind of laughter. He can’t breathe. He can’t even see because his eyes are so filled with tears.

“I’m serious.” She grinds out.

“How the fuck should I know? We don’t discuss ways to kill each other,” He rolls his eyes, muttering “Even if we do think about it.”

“You must know. You have to know. It is woven into your DNA. You meet each other in every lifetime and die. You have seen it for centuries.”

His fading laughter vanishes completely as he whips his head up to look at her. “What?”

“You and Perseus. You guys are immortal deities who appear whenever the world needs to be remade.” Her voice is impatient as if he should know this. As if she’s explaining it to an incompetent child. “You as the healer and him as the destroyer. But people and beings alike have been killing you for centuries because your presence means they will cease to exist. You have watched each other die multiple times. You have revived each other multiple times too.”

“So you’re saying we’re soulmates?” He can hardly believe what he’s hearing. It sounds like the biggest load of bullshit he’s ever heard.

“No. You’re more than that. You aren’t just two halves that fit to make a whole. You aren’t even two wholes that fit to make a pair. You _are_ each other. You do not exist without him. He does not exist without you. You are not bound by souls or hearts or whatever us humans believe is the epitome of love. You are bound by life.”

“I don’t believe you.” He rolls his eyes. This is garbage. This is nonsense. This is not real.

“I don’t really have time to argue with you about it. Just tell me what I need to know and you will be spared.”

“Why should I?” He’s not even considering it. He would never betray his husband like that. Would never put the Prince in such volatile danger.

“Because if you don’t,” She gives another of her terrifying grins, “The kingdom you know and love will crumble to nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

“It’s already started Jason.” She cackles, “The more time you spend with Perseus the more he will bleed into you and you into him. There are already cracks in the castle. Do you really want to risk it?”

His heart is pounding but she is wrong. Isn’t she? "I don’t believe you.“ He says again.

"Oh Jase,” She gives him a pitying look and he wants to rip her eyes out and toss them in a lake to watch the fish. “The Castle of _Caelum_ is falling to the ground. Your Prince’s blood spilled on mom’s roses and they crumbled to dust. There are splinters in the stone. They will become chasms. Either you help us or you risk your precious kingdom turning to debris right before you.”

“And what’s in it for me?”

“You’ll be spared from the slaughter of the monarchs.”

“And my husband?”

“He will die. This is non negotiable. One of you must, to stop you from fulfilling your fates. We have someone with him right now.”

Wrong answer. But he bows his head and pretends to mull it over. Inside his thoughts are whirring like a new machine and plan after plan formulates in his mind.

“Okay Annabeth Chase, my sister,” He smiles soft and sweet. She returns it in triumph. “I will join your rebellion. I will tell you how to kill my husband.”

And as she picks him up from the floor and removes the invisible ties keeping him pinned to the concrete he allows himself a secret smile of his own. It hints at the malice, the destruction, to come. They made the biggest mistake of their lives when they took him away from the Prince. They will pay.

_I’m coming for you Percy._

So Crown Prince Jason Grace loops his arm through his sister’s and makes friends with his enemy.

**together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts, beautiful human!


	15. The Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: drugging

Prince Perseus Jackson knows exactly three things about his current situation.

1\. He was being drugged each morning. Very light dose but drugged all the same.

2\. His injuries only appeared to be healed but were actually causing him immense amounts of pain. When he could actually feel anything except a floaty sort of sensation.

3\. He was being lied to. 

It is perhaps the third fact that hurt the most. Not for any reason but the fact that he thought the person lying to him was a friend. He was used to being deceived. Used to being a pawn in someone else’s master plan to get to checkmate. He just never expected it from her.

Then again after being kidnapped by the man he thought was his best friend, his _brother_ , he really shouldn’t be surprised about the current situation. It made the sting no less bitter. 

He thought all of this as he lay in a silk hammock, staring up at the ceiling that looks like fractured glass and liquid rainbows. As of two days ago, or at least he thinks it’s been two days, they moved from the House of Wonder to the House of Sweetness. There were vanilla candles burning and the floors resembled cracked candy. It was one of his favourite tree houses as a child. Now it just made him slightly queasy.

The hammock swings gently in the breeze that darts between the windows and it is a lovely sensation until he can’t escape it. His body feels like lead. Like concrete. Like weight. It’s the drugs. He doesn’t really know what she’s been using or how she’s administering them so he hasn’t been able to not take them. A pity really, since he’d rather like to get the fuck up and find his husband and go home to his ocean and maybe the dog his husband had acquired. _Nox_.

He really just isn’t having the best few weeks.

“Oh good,” A voice that reminds him of roses, petals, colours, and thorns drifts over his head. “You’re awake.”

“It seems so.” His mouth still works.

“Are you feeling better today? Would you like to sit up?”

He wants to spit at her shoes and run away. “Yes that’d be great. I’m feeling a little weak so could you help?”

“Sure my love, and I have tea ready.”

Ah the tea. The one she gives him everyday that tastes like mint and lemon and the barest hints of honey. His favourite hot beverage. Something only his most treasured people would know. At first he had thought the tea was the drug, or at the very least she was slipping something into it. But after days of watching her he ruled that idea out. She drank the same tea. And when he had offered her some of his, on a particularly cold day she had drank it happily. Her footsteps are light but steady. Ever the dancer. She is mine, his mind says. His heart just cries. It’s an emotional motherfucker. His soul is dancing underneath his bones. There is no music in his body any more.

He hears her shuffle around and a second later her face is hovering over his, brown eyes twinkling like sunstones. “Hello!” She beams. He sees the surgical gleam behind the smile.

“Hello my Little Dove.” He returns her energy and the room is ablaze in the sweetest lies.

She loops her arm around his back and hauls him out of the hammock and onto shaky feet. He leans on her heavily, hating every second, smiling through it all.

“Does it hurt anywhere?” She gives him a concerned look, and he almost believes it.

“I’m okay,” He reassures her, “Just a little shaky. No injuries at least.”

Because they ‘heal’ themselves, because he’s drugged, because he’s been here for days and he has no way of getting out.

“Maybe we can explore the Maze of Madness soon. It’s always been your favourite.”

His eyes light up and she mistakes it for joy. “I would love that!” It is an escape.

She sets him down on the small bean bag in the center of the room as she prepares the tray of food and steaming beverage. The little blue teapot is one they’d painted together when they were nothing but saplings running through the trunks of their parents’ legs. She smiles at him, as if they’re both remembering the same thing, and he wants to discard every happy thought from his mind.

“Sugar?” Her voice is as sweet as the cubes.

“No thank you, I’ll have honey and plum jam toast.”

“I am going out today. I have some duties i need to take care of.” 

His attention is caught in her spiderweb. This is new. “Can i join you?” He slides innocence into the pores of his skin. “I need to stretch my legs a little and feel solid ground underneath my feet.”

An expression passes over her face that he can only describe as pained, and his heart pounds against his ribcage. Do not deny me. Do not deny me. Do not deny me.

“I do not know if it is a good idea Percy,” There are a million things trying to catch in those brown eyes. “My mother still does not know you’re here. Hell no one does. And i’m trying to protect you from those horrid rebels.” There is so much disgust in her voice he is almost convinced. Almost.

“Please,” He pouts, green eyes puppy-dog wide. “You wouldn’t keep your soulmate trapped in a little tree house would you?” She would. She would. She would.

With a heavy sigh, she glances around the space and then gives an almost imperceptible nod.

“Thank you Little Dove!” He loops his arms around her neck and pulls her close. He forces his body to stay relaxed even as it screams at him that this is wrong, that this is not whose arms he should be in, that she is betraying him.

“There have to be rules Percy. I cannot risk losing you. Not again.”

“Yes ma’am.” He gives her a mock salute. And the bile rising in his throat burns him. “Lay it out.”

She pins a molten gaze on him and it elicits nothing but fear. “No going near the castle. Neither of us want those questions. Don’t be out longer than two hours. If you feel this house is not safe or someone has been snooping, go to the House of Warmth and wait there. I will meet you as soon as i can. Don’t talk to anyone, or anything. If anyone comes to tell you they’re bringing you to me, do not believe them. I am the only one who knows you’re here. They will hurt you.”

He is Rapunzel in her tower. He is a child. He is a shiny new toy waiting to be displayed. He is illegal substances in a back alley that taste like more and carry shame as collateral. He is nothing, and no-one, and he has never been more grateful in his life.

He smiles as bright as fluorescent lights, “Got it. I’ll behave.”

They clean up their breakfast and he slips on the olive green cotton pants and cream tunic she hands him. They are ready in a matter of moments. He slips a white rose into his pocket, given to him lifetimes ago by his husband. They are ready.

“I’ll be back as soon as i can.” She shimmies down the tree and lands with cat-like grace on the forest floor.

“I’ll be around here.” He looks so convincing. He looks innocent.

She brushes the back of her hand against his cheek and he leans into it. “Be careful my Soul.”

“Always Little Dove.”

They step away and he can breathe. She disappears through the trees and his heart stops shaking. He takes one step towards the sound of a river and his whole body feels like it’s been released from its gilded cage. There isn’t enough time, he needs to get to the river. There will be creatures who will take him to his husband. Who will take him home.

His bare feet sink into the cool foliage littering the floor but he cannot stop to appreciate the sensation. He must keep going. He has to get out of here. He has to be free. Trees blur past his vision as he sprints, and sprints and sprints. The sound of the river gets louder, like blood rushing in his ears. He is so close, so close, so close. He slams into something and is thrown back so hard his vision blurs.

His back screams as it scrapes against the rough ground. It feels like the beginning of a war. When the pain isn’t blinding him he blinks into the world and tries to find whatever took him down. There is nothing. It is the forest, continuing endlessly. There is nothing and no-one. Except…. There. Glimmering in the failing sunshine is a rippling barrier. Invisible until you’re slamming straight into it. Invisible until you’re staring directly at the obstacle

“Fuck.” He mutters and it echoes as loud as the ringing in his head.

The birds, chirping in the trees above, tilt their heads at him. Like he is an alien species. He feels like one.

“How do i get past it?” He asks, and although he isn’t speaking to anyone in particular it makes him laugh to see two little sparrows hop towards him.

“Well do you have an idea then?” He smiles at them. They hop closer/

“I need to find my husband you see.” He’s rambling now, as ideas card through his mind. “I don’t suppose you could take me to him?”

The sparrows are inches away from his hand, which is propping up his body, as his back tries to figure out how to work again.

“I think i know why we saw roses before we got kidnapped.” He is mumbling his theories into the void. He doesn’t need a reply to know he is right.

The sparrow chirps, and as he looks down it nips his skin.

“Ouch!” He rips his hand away, cradling the cut, that is already pooling with bright red blood. “What was that for?”

It chirps again, tilts its head towards the barrier, which is still shimmering before him. 

He looks down at his hand, watching the blood drip from his skin and onto a fallen leaf. The leaf turns black, crumbles to ash. He understands. 

“Oh you are a clever thing aren’t you?” And when it whistles in response he is sad he doesn’t have something to reward it. Not even a piece of fruit.

He walks towards the barrier, considering how he would draw more blood. Having never done anything like this before he didn’t really know how much blood would be needed. It was no use giving pints full only to pass out before he could actually pass the wall of magic. What if the wall remade itself? No it wasn’t worth the risk. 

He would start small and build if need be. He only needed to make a small enough hole for him to fit through. Nothing more.

So with a deep breath he thanks the sparrow, and uses a thorn from the bramble bush to cut a long incision in his thigh. It stings like lemon on paper-cuts but it produces ample blood. He presses his leg to the barrier, and prays to the oceans that it works. The barrier does not seem to give; its strength a force he cannot wield. But then, ever so slowly, he feels his leg sink through the magic. It almost pulses around him. He looks down to find red smeared across his pants, and a black shadow creeping out from around his thigh. He can do this. He will do this.

“A little more.” He mutters, and the oceans hear him because a minute later his knee is falling through and soon after the rest of his body. With a wave to the sparrows the barrier closes around his arm, and he is through.

The other side of the wall is one he knows well, and one that immediately sets stone sin his stomach. It can’t be. It shouldn’t be. It isn’t.

There, spread out before him is the Maze of Madness, and he stands in the very middle, where a bench engraved with pretty words sits. And on it, like it is her Throne is Princess Piper Mclean.

Standing behind her, as regal and beautiful as she has always been is Annabeth Chase.

And there, there, there. Oh gods. There in the shadows, blonde hair caught in sunshine, and eyes as blue as the river he was trying to escape to is Prince Jason Grace. His husband.

“We’ve been expecting you Percy.” Piper smiles. And she is no longer pretending.

All he can gasp is, “Jason.”

The blonde doesn’t even acknowledge him. And every thread in his heart snaps. But the bruising on his ribcage begins to heal.

“What are you doing with them?” He will not cry.

“Jason is my brother Perseus. And he has claimed his rightful place at my side.”

Everything clicks into place all at once. The oxygen he depends on is ripped cleanly from his lungs, by his own scream.

“You are the head of this movement.” He points a shaky finger towards Piper. “Hence the roses, your official flower.”

She smiles like poison. He sinks to his knees. And the crack on the inside of his skull that has given him a constant headache disappears.

“And you are her…” His eyes widen, engulfing the world with his emerald shock. “You and her are lovers. But you married Reyna so Piper could continue working in secret and you could be the face of the rebellion.” 

“What a clever little Prince.” Annabeth smirks. “It’s such a shame you won’t live to your full potential.”

He looks towards his husband who seems frozen in time. Something is wrong, This is not Jason. This is not the Prince of Caelum. He is a living storm, cracking and sparking, and full of life. This is a statue, concrete.

“What have you done to him?” Percy breathes. The bones they’d broken right themselves.

“He is fine,” Annabeth rolls her eyes, ‘Aren’t you little brother?”

He comes to life in a series of movements. “I’m perfectly fine. Hello Perseus.”

The greeting cracks him in half.

“Are you ready to learn your fate Percy? So that i may carry on with my plans.”

He spits at Piper’s feet. She simply laughs. “You are going to die Prince. And your immortal soul will not regenerate until the other part of you dies. And i think we shall keep him around for a long long time.”

“What?” He is grasping at broken threads. He doesn’t have enough to even start a tapestry.

‘Oh yes i did forget.” She gives a pitying look. “You aren’t all caught up.” She turns her head and looks to Jason. “Would you care to do the honours of explaining to your husband.”

The blonde simply steps into the light, and stares directly at him, beautiful face devoid of emotion. “We are immortal deities that are reborn every time the world needs to be remade. They keep killing us so we won’t fulfill our fates, and they can continue to live.”

“Thank you brother.” Annabeth stops him.

“But you see Percy. We were clever, unlike our ancestors.” Princess Piper grins. “They killed both of you at the same time but that just kept the cycle going. Instead we will kill one of you and keep the other continually alive so you cannot be reformed and thereof never pose a threat to us.”

“But why?” His head is spinning. He is not prepared. The invisible injuries that the drugs were masking are healed.

“Why should we give up all we know and love? Because fate decides it? Because the universe believes we deserve it? No Prince.” She gives a fierce look. “We are the only ones that should decide when we go, when we’ve had enough of this world. And it is cruel to have it ripped away before we are ready.” 

He doesn’t bother to point out that she is ripping his life away before he is ready. “What makes you so sure you will succeed?” 

She scrunches her nose. “I am not a fan of failure. And besides all those who oppose us are eliminated.”

“What do you think happened to your father?” Annabeth smirks.

He whips his gaze to her, and throws up his breakfast. “You killed my father? Because he… found out what you were planning?”

“Well not personally since I was like thirteen, but Grover did. It is rather sad how easy it was.”

He dry heaves. This cannot be true.

“Right now that we have that out of the way. Jason if you could please do the honours?” Piper motions towards him, a dagger resting on her lap.

There is a brief flash in those electric eyes. So fast he isn’t sure it was ever really there at all.

“Should we not wait until the official ceremony?”

Annabeth and Piper share a look, and Percy takes the opportunity to look at Jason, who is now staring at him intently. There are so many questions in his own green eyes but his husband is once more a blank wall.

“Have you healed him Jason?”

“Yes sister. As soon as he stepped into the room with me he started healing.”

Percy looks down at his thigh which is cut free, and smooth as glass. He feels about as fragile.

“Take him to the Outers,” Piper waves a hand. The dagger on her lap stays there.

Jason hauls him to his feet, and with a grip as tight as rope, he is shoved into his husband’s side and taken through the maze.

When they are far enough away he turns to the blonde. “Jase what the fuck is going on?”

The Prince says nothing and Percy wants to growl in frustration. Before he can they’re stepping into a hedged wall at the and entering a simple wooden room.

Prince Jason Grace sets him down by the fire. “Don’t move, I’ll come back for you.”

And then he is gone, and Prince Perseus Jackson smiles. Because that was the voice of the man he fell in love with. And those hands which had brushed against his waist as he let go were as warm and alive as electric currents.

So the destroyer sits by the fire, and waits for his healer to rescue him.


	16. The Colosseum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s been over a month so here’s a previously on:  
> Prince Jason Grace sets him down by the fire. “Don’t move, I’ll come back for you.”  
> And then he is gone, and Prince Perseus Jackson smiles. Because that was the voice of the man he fell in love with. And those hands which had brushed against his waist as he let go were as warm and alive as electric currents.  
> So the destroyer sits by the fire, and waits for his healer to rescue him.

_Come home, don’t die so far from the sea_

Percy Jackson can feel the hard press of the wooden floor against his back and he welcomes the pain like an old friend. The darkness of the room feels endless in the cold black of the early morning hours. The fire has long since died, no kindling or wood to keep it alight for however long he stays here. If he didn’t know they planned to kill him at dawn of the coming day he would think they were trying to freeze him to death. It was almost strange how cold he was considering _Hanaan_ was supposed to be in spring, heading towards the warmer months at a rapid pace. He wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t in Piper’s kingdom any longer. Maybe he had been transported to a kingdom of eternal winter.

He remembers a story like it, one his mom had told to the group that met at the children’s library every month. He remembers _all_ the stories his mother had told him, fitting into each other like a tapestry. Just then an icy wind drifts in from under the door making him shiver in the thin cotton clothes. He curls into a ball-any attempt to save his body heat- and closes his eyes to a warmer darkness. His mother’s voice echoes inside him.

_“When the world was first created there was only the earth and the sea and the sky and the beings that made these elements up.”_

_Queen Sally smiled down at the children surrounding her, looking up with sparkling eyes, hanging onto her every word._

_There was the Lady of the Ocean, and the Being of the Rivers, and the Wisps of the Sky and the Dancers of the Earth. They lived together in harmony, for they never knew of each others’ existences. But one day the Being of the Rivers met the Lady of the Ocean and they learnt together what love was, and then loved each other. They refused to be apart, they couldn’t bare it; the oceans would thrash in agony, hurting the earth; the rivers would dry up, or form canyons in the ground in rage. It was destructive to keep them apart, for they loved so hard and so fiercely that it became a weakness to the world to separate them. So the beings stayed together, for eons, seasons, lifetimes passing without disruption. And in their time the earth changed and the sky grew rainbows and new elements came into being, things that molded and shaped as they had. Things that would not become clear until there was tangible things to hold them, make them. The day came, uncountable eras into their existence. A Dancer of the Earth had fallen in love with a Wisp of the Sky and together they created one that walks._

_“Like us Your Majesty?” A little girl burning with curiosity, curly pigtails swinging slightly in the Mare breeze._

_“Just like us Bianca.” His mother had smiled, “With two legs and a wide smile and so much love in their hearts.”_

_Bianca sighed contentedly as if she had known that first being all her life and looked up to them._

_“And with that one being came more and more. As they settled down the need for structure became apparent. Not to control these new beings, but to make sure they had a place to talk about their struggles and to connect them with those who could help. And who better-_

_His mother had smiled, one of her secret smiles, that meant she knew something she’d beg them to tell her. Half the children around her fell for the bait._

_“Whom, your majesty?” A child he had never seen before squeaked, rocking on their heels, knees pulled up to their chest._

_“Well the very beings that brought them there.” She giggled, watching as some of their faces scrunched in confusion while others slowly came to the realisation._

_The beings of the earth and the rivers and the sky took on a form, as close to the new beings as possible and came to them to offer help, and solace. And that is how the Kingdoms were formed._ **_Mare_ ** _for water, and_ **_Caelum_ ** _for sky, and_ **_Canbaha_ ** _for earth._

_The questions came all at once._

_“So the first Kings and Queens were the beings of the world?’_

_“What happened to the Ocean Lady and the River?”_

_“Are you a-”_

_“Alright alright,” The Queen laughed, “One at a time, let’s go around the room shall we?”_

_The children raised their hands, impatience shaking their little bodies. His mother pointed at Bianca who was right under her gaze._

_“What happened to the Lady of the Ocean and the Being of Rivers?”_

_“Remember how i told you they couldn't ever be separated?”_

_The gaggle before her nodded enthusiastically eager to show they were listening._

_“Well they were the only beings to rule one kingdom together. They decided if they fed one another there was no need to keep themselves apart. Instead of becoming a kingdom of Oceans and kingdom of Rivers they become the Kingdom of_ **_Mare_ ** _.”_

_“What about all the other kingdoms?” A small voice piped up, drifting in the sea of mutters._

_“Those kingdoms came to be as beings changed and evolved and became something different, something more. The Kingdom of_ **_Hanaan_ ** _appeared first, created by a beautiful person who could change form at will. She knew not of physicality but of emotion. And then the Kingdom of_ **_Hekima_ ** _came, bringing with it prosperous invention and ways to keep the world working better, more beautifully. And then the Kingdom of_ **_Xoia_ ** _-”_

_Bianca gasped, “Mine!”_

_“Yours” his mother had smiled, stroking the little girl's head. “_ **_Xoia_ ** _was one of the last to appear but it brought brightness to the world that could not be found or made otherwise.”_

_“What happened to the beings that ruled, mom?” Percy’s voice was small, like a baby bird learning how to use its beak._

_For him she cocked her head, her blue eyes glinting under the candlelight swaying above them. “What do you think Prince?”_

_Come home, don’t die so far from the sea_

Percy awoke to the door creaking open and rough hands digging into his arms as they hauled him up. He doesn’t have the energy to demand where they were taking him. He didn’t have the wits or the power because his brain was slowly coming to realisations he was not ready to have. It was making assumptions he was terrified may be true. It was shattering his world for the billionth time. It was breaking him.

The world is still dark, but it is not that heavy blackness that seems to suck him in. It is the kind of dark that tells you the light was winning; that soon you will see pinpricks of white and yellow and gold poking through the sky and then the world will be awash in colour once more.

He is thrown onto the grey-stoned floor, hiding his wince as his knees take the brunt of it. The people who had deposited him laugh and walk away. He doesn’t bother to call after them, instead taking in the surroundings. He is in an arena. In a colosseum. He is the lamb offered up to the butcher. He is the prey stuck in a hunter’s snare. He is the entertainment.

He can picture it now; crowds stomping into the stone stands and chanting for his death. He can imagine the painter sat in the box only one lower from the royalty, slapping colour onto a canvas, swirling it in the shades of his blood. He can imagine the musicians in the box just below the painter, banging on their drums, letting the beautiful notes of a flute be the anthem to his downfall. He can imagine his husband, standing in the box above all, looking down at him with those eyes of lightning. Eyes he had woken up to when Jason’s nightmares were so bad they had to sit by his window. About that blonde hair, like strands of sunlight, he has so often wanted to run his hands through, how he mourned its discolouring when their blood coated it. About those hands that held him when they were captured and freed him so they weren’t. And he wonders, if the Prince will miss him.

Because, he realises with startling radiant clarity, somewhere in the mess that had become their lives Percy had grown to care for the Prince of _Caelum_. He doesn’t really know when it started; maybe when he found Jason screaming outside the door to the Captain of the Guards’ chamber; or maybe when Percy had sought him out some nights later, and held him as he cried; or maybe when Jason let him be a part of the kingdom by giving him a white rose. He can’t be sure it wasn’t a combination of all those things. He sits on the cold platform in the middle of the arena and finds himself sad, achingly sad, that he will never get that time with his husband. That he will never get to tell the Prince how he feels. 

The sun rises slowly, as if trying to delay the inevitable, but Percy embraces it, letting the warmth of the final tomorrow caress his brown skin. If it is the last time he feels the sun, he wishes to do nothing _but_ feel it. The rays are gentle on his face and he can only imagine it’s what Jason’s touch would have felt like. He sits cross-legged, chin to the sky, eyes closed to the array of colours and lets the last joys of this world embrace him.

The wrought iron gates underneath the raised stands shake and rattle, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t know what beasts await him; he doesn’t care. Let them come, he thinks, it will be a mercy to rest at last. The crowds pour in, his people who he was set to rule one day, Jason’s people who he was set to protect one day. Still he keeps himself shut off from the world, feeling the sun, and the wind.

If he had loved anything at all he had loved the wind, the way it chased his ankles, and swept him up, and raced him, and held him, and danced with him, and coaxed him. It was a tragedy, a heartbreaking thought, that he hadn’t gotten to see his ocean one last time. He would have loved to feel the cool water on his skin, and the sand sinking under his feet. He wishes he had more time. He wants this to be over as soon as possible. Time is up.

“Good morning my people,” A voice like ancient beings and newborns croons across the colosseum. “Are you ready to witness history?”

Percy thinks of his mother, the keeper of stories, and knows she has already heard this one. Percy thinks of his father, who has returned to the beginning. He knows his parents will not come to save him. Percy thinks of his childhood friends, all leading secret lives, forged to end his own. He knows they will be in the stands to watch their victory. Percy thinks of his husband, a soldier for an army they could never have predicted. He knows they will never learn how to love one another.

The crowd is screaming, the wrought iron is rattling. Prince Perseus Jackson opens his eyes as the gate yawns open.

The arena is deafening, shaking with anticipation. He glances to the royal box nearly floating in the clouds and frowns when he doesn’t spot a flash of blonde hair.

The people are feral with excitement. A loud boom echoes from the musicians box.

Prince Jason Grace stumbles from the mouth of the arena and falls to his knees in front of the platform.

“Kill him Perseus.” A voice glimmers around him, leaking in through the ringing in his ears.

“ _Come home Prince_ ,” That voice lilts, “ _Do not die so far from the sea._ ”

Jason looks up at him, blue eyes hazy, a dagger loose in his clasp. “Hello Prince.”

Percy steps down from the platform, and takes the dagger from his husband’s hands. It is almost sickening how easily he gives it over.

The crowd stomps its feet: they are ready for blood; they are ready for _slaughter_.

He holds the dagger up, making sure it glints in the sun. And then he draws his husband close until there is nothing between their bodies, not space, not even air.

“ _Let’s go home my love._ ” He whispers. “ _We will not die so far from the sea._ ”

Prince Perseus Jackson brings the blade down.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me all your thoughts, you beautiful human!


End file.
